Silent Threats
by Zee-Zee Magee
Summary: Sophie's past was never as easy-going as Nate thought. Of course, when the man responsible for her career comes back in the picture, she has no choice but to reflect on how she came to be. A gift for knuddle.gd.
1. Childhood Woes

**A/N:** _This is based, however loosely on a prompt by for a Nate/Sophie fic with Sophie backstory (with emphasis on the Duchess of Hanover and William.) , I hope this works for you! Please enjoy and let me know what you think._

**A/N II:** _I have a prompt for whoever wishes to grab it. I will post it again at the end of this fic in case you guys forget but here it is: I would like a Nate/Sophie story set to the song Kiss It All Better by He is We. (it can be found on YouTube I promise you.) Bonus points if Moreau is somehow involved. (Canon please if you wish to include the team.) Thanks, and enjoy!_

There were many thoughts running through Sophie Devereaux's mind as she skittered across the floor. Absolutely none of them were happy images of her father, back when he was kind and her mother was still alive. No, terror had always ruled her young life no matter how often she tried to forget that lovely piece of information.

At the tender age of three, Sophie Devereaux wasn't even her name. Of course, she didn't know at the time that she would have a name that didn't belong to her birth family in the least. At the time, all she cared about was the fact that Mummy wasn't making her breakfast or reading bedtime stories anymore. The only time her mother would even speak to her was when she made the effort of running into her parents' bedroom and flopping on top of the bed. She would race under the covers and cuddle into Mummy as quickly as possible, usually with tears on her face.

She would tell her mother tales while in the room; tales of Daddy's meanness towards her because he couldn't pour the milk into the cereal correctly. She would even tell tales of when Mummy got better from the far too misunderstood word cancer that they were going to climb the jungle-gyms and march the streets of London looking for the best boutiques and shops. Even back then Sophie had been rich, though she didn't know the class difference or why at the time.

Then one day, as the story always goes, Mummy wasn't in bed. The young Sophie Devereaux had actually squealed in delight over the news. She clapped her hands and jumped up and down in joy of the fact that her mother was no longer bed-ridden. She happily raced towards the kitchen in pajama clad feet because her mother only believed she should wear footed-pajamas at her young age. She stormed down the stairs with an extra bounce of life and ran towards her spot at the table. Her cereal had yet to be poured and the milk wasn't even out for her to help herself. Her mother was nowhere to be found.

Sophie had puzzled over this for a good hour before a loud bang and a yelp of pain enveloped her ears. She turned towards the front door of their flat and stared at her father's ragged form. Her old man fell against the door frame and didn't seem to mind. He just drank from a brown sandwich bag and allowed the door frame to win until he was sitting on the floor leaning against it. Even then young Sophie knew the liquid inside the brown bag was evil but she raced towards her father anyway. She wanted to know why he was so sad and where was Mummy?

It wasn't until a few days later, when they were placing the casket six feet underground that she learned of her mother's passing. Mummy had lost to the cancer and left them forever. Heaven wasn't even a word in Sophie's vocabulary then. Nathan Ford had yet to teach it to her. But the young Sophie Devereaux had learned something very important that day, she had to stay behind to take care of Daddy.

Little did she know, Daddy had other plans.

%

"Sophie!"

The mastermind's voice snapped the grifter out of her thoughts immediately. His hand was waving in front of her face and there was concern on his features. Apparently, she had been thinking for a very long time. She didn't answer on the first or the second calling of her name.

"What?" She asked, trying to shrug it off with being half-asleep and highly jet-lagged. They had only just come back from a trip to Paris. It was easy enough to believe.

"I asked you what kind of venue you wanted and you just zoned out on me," Nate explained his forehead creasing with worry, "I'm voluntarily talking about the wedding and you zoned out."

Sophie blinked at him, not because he had caught her like he most likely thought. She had blinked because he was discussing the great big pink polka-dotted elephant in the room. He had refused to even pick a date for their upcoming nuptials since their engagement. He kept shrugging it off to "we've got time why hurry?" But she knew him better. He was already planning her funeral and how he was going to move on after yet another tragic event, the coward.

"No I didn't," she argued immediately. It was their thing, who was she to change it? "I was just thinking about a castle in Paris or the Coliseum in Rome. Somewhere with beautiful sunsets and lots of space!"

"For the six people we are inviting?" He asked, brow raised high and forehead further creasing with worry.

Sophie stared at him for a while, thinking of all the different replies she could give him. Then she found the opening she needed because he was surely counting wrong.

"Who's the sixth?" She asked, tilting her head just so to expose a certain inch of collarbone that Nathan Ford happened to find favor with.

"We discussed this," he said, rolling his eyes at her and making her feel like a complete idiot. She didn't remember discussing anything like guests. "I want to invite Sterling because he was, at one point, my friend."

"Still is," Sophie mumbled under her breath. At least she thought it was under her breath. Nate's rising eyebrow and amused smirk seemed to suggest she wasn't as subtle as she was aiming.

"Sophie…" Uh-oh! She knew that voice. That was his "I'm going to figure out your con" voice.

"I'm fine," she interrupted gently, "I'm just tired. We only just got back from our trip. Can't we have a little break before we jump right into the bride and groom routine? We haven't even picked a date yet."

The eyebrow only seemed to rise higher which was pretty difficult considering it was already in his hairline. His concern was really doing a number on his forehead too. He was definitely going to get a few more wrinkles when this conversation was done. If he would allow it to be over.

"You know," he said keeping the conversation going because he just can't leave well enough alone, "You've been very moody lately-"

"I'm tired, Nate," Sophie rolled her eyes. He was truly atrocious at subtle, "I'll be fine with a good twelve hours of sleep in my system. Quit being such a worry-wart."

"Ordinarily I would believe that," Nate countered, "but you haven't been fine since before we even went to Paris. You've slowly started disappearing off the face of the Earth. I thought it was just jitters from getting married then I remembered this is you and now I'm thoroughly worried."

Sophie stared at him like he had three heads. She hadn't expected him to have noticed her odd behavior before she did. She hadn't even expected him to catch onto the fact that she spent most of her time in her head. Damn, he was starting to become way too good at reading her. She should have put a stop to that long ago. Maybe then they wouldn't be so screwed up.

"I'm fine," she tried again. Only this time she didn't even believe herself. It was a sad day when even a grifter of her caliber couldn't con herself or the man she was with.

Nate's hands were on her cheeks in seconds. His forehead was against hers and felt nice and cooling. His nose was almost touching and his lips were just as close. His blue eyes were filled to the brim with concern and she secretly hated the fact that she really wanted to kiss him.

"You know you can tell me anything," he said. Bloody cliché. "But do you believe it?"

Okay, when did he get so poetic? This isn't the Nathan Ford she signed up for. She was specifically informed that this one no longer existed. This one was buried six feet underground with his son Sam and his divorce with Maggie. She didn't get this one. She knew she didn't get this one.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly.

"I'm not supposed to get this one," she replied. Then she mentally smacked herself in the face for it. She was starting to forget who she was. She was a grifter. She wasn't allowed to speak her thoughts as she was thinking them. It was going to get her killed.

"This one what?" Nate frowned.

"Nevermind," was her reply.

That stupid worry was back on his face. His palms were pressing into her cheeks and looked ready to take her to the hospital. That was an odd thought, Nathan Ford voluntarily visiting a hospital for something other than a con. Maybe she wasn't feeling well after all.

"I've just got a lot on my mind," she explained.

"Sophie," Nate sighed glaring daggers at her, "At least tell me what you meant by this one."

A punch of guilt slammed into her chest at the worry in his eyes.

"Well," she stalled as she tried to think of the best approach.

"Sophie," he growled apparently reading her mind like he totally was not supposed to.

"I'm not supposed to get the super caring and considerate Nathan Ford," she said, flinging the words at him in hopes of getting it over and done with, "I'm supposed to get the drunk bastard who is trying his damnedest to pretend he's not healing from his son's death."

She took a deep breath and found a spot on the wall. She felt her cheeks flush at the close scrutiny she was receiving. Then she dared to find his eyes again and a childish smile appeared on her features.

"That's supposed to be Maggie's Nate," she finished dryly, "the one that died with Sam."

Then she swiveled the stool around. The mastermind latched onto her arm and stopped her from escaping his gaze. She flashed back to an image of him doing the exact same thing to Parker when they lived in Boston. She mentally disciplined herself for daring to smile at the memory because he had an adorable fatherly look as he scolded the thief for spinning around in a stool instead of sitting properly.

"You deserve that Nate," he whispered into her ear. His soft, warm breath was suddenly right in her ear and she could feel the heat of his skin by his neck.

"And I will strive to give him to you every day," he said, "That's what the ring means. I'm going to do everything I can to be the man you deserve, because you deserve so much more than I can give you. I know you don't believe that but I will do my best to prove it to you."

He placed his hand on her cheek and pushed gently. The grifter turned towards him with an arched eyebrow. She could see the honesty in his eyes. She could even feel the truth of his words in her bones. He rubbed his thumb on her cheek and slowly inched closer. She beat him to the punch by melding her mouth to his. She felt the slight tilt to his left cheek when he realized she was giving him all that she had.

%

She was five when Daddy began teaching her how to mimic other people's voices and accents. She could speak French, Italian, and German in her sleep. (Literally, she had dreams in each of those languages with absolutely no idea how not-normal that really was.) She had already mastered the art of numbers and letters after Mummy died. Daddy had been so sad and she wanted to remind him that he still had her. (This, she would later realize, ended up back-firing on her and pretty much ruined the rest of her life.) So she worked very hard to learn how to read and write and add. Her teachers were highly impressed when she could count to one hundred forty-seven without a pause. They were even more impressed when she volunteered to subtract forty-nine from seventy-three. It only took her teacher three days before she suggested Sophie should skip a grade. One grade was already on the verge of turning into two because she was such a quick and skilled learner. (She had yet to realize her advanced intelligence would also lead to her downfall and future career.)

School was fun and easy for her. Sure, she was constantly picked on for being smarter than at least half of her class but that didn't really matter. Her father had started taking an interest in her after she started her first year of school. He cherished his five-year-old's intelligence and, Sophie being eager to bring out her father's smile, he used his little sponge to her fullest potential. He had her begin with reading her favorite books, Winnie the Pooh and The Little Engine That Could, and he would repeat what she said in funny voices. After the giggles had finally subsided, Sophie would repeat the phrase until she could mimic his voice to a T. (Okay, so maybe the beginning wasn't too bad.)

Soon, Sophie was a seven-year-old who could read, write and speak in four languages without a pause. It was as though it was a fluid, natural movement in her abilities. So her father, highly satisfied with his daughter's quick wit, decided to take her tutelage up a notch. He taught her how to pick a pocket with nothing more than her forefinger and her middle finger. This she found much more challenging.

See, Sophie had yet to grow into her long, elegant fingers. At the age of seven, her fingers were tiny digits that could barely even beat a golf pencil in size. Like most children, her fingers were chunky and barely more than stubs at the ends of her hands. The first time her father showed her how to do it, he yelled at her for not being able to do it without him feeling it. After her third attempt, to no avail, he began drinking. This made young Sophie nervous, she had already learned about Evil Daddy and the bottle. Her fifth attempt ending up getting her lightly slapped on the hand and another round of scolding. Her tenth attempt had her bawling in the corner because Daddy hit her hand a bit harder. He had raced out of the room before he could do any further damage, the bottle going with him to give him comfort from his deed.

"I'll get it," Sophie had shouted after her father through the tears. At the time, she thought he was leaving because she couldn't do what he wanted her to. "I promise I'll get it, Daddy. Please don't leave me like Mummy! I'll be good, I promise."

She allowed herself to cry for another fifteen minutes. (Yes, she had already mastered the art of telling time without a clock.) Then she went to work learning her new trade. She found an old coat of Mummy's and sowed a series of bells all over it. She stole Mummy's mannequin and began practicing. Her father was more than pleased when she finally mastered the art of pocket-picking. He yelped with joy, only scaring her slightly, and swopped her into the air. Then he promised her cake, cookies and whatever else she wanted. She spent a full three months practicing on her class-mates and teachers to make sure she never got out of practice.

%

Sophie stands at the back of the church with nervous bubbles in her stomach. A smile is on her face, as she has always expected. A familiar figure of the past is holding her left arm.

His hair is still pitch black, darker than the night. The smile on his face is almost as perfectly placed as hers. He still can't hide the hate in his black eyes though. He wears a tailored, double-breasted black suit like he always has. His hair is slicked back. Unlike, Eliot and Hardison, his pocket handkerchief is a stark blood red. His vest and undershirt are the same blood red color. But he selected no tie for the occasion. His eyes tell her to keep staring forward, like she can ignore the gun he's holding against her.

Her dress is perfect ivory because a white dress was just a little too cliché. It wraps around her body at the top and delicately billows out from her waist. The sweetheart neckline gave her the illusion that she was a princess. The beaded bodice cascading into a field of lace reminds her of the dress her mother wore. Parker insisted on the antique silver tiara on the top of her head so Sophie made certain her veil easily worked with it. There is a perfect bouquet of white roses in her hands. The petals are stained with tears already. The salty sadness collapses from her eyes as she tries to at least pretend she's happy.

The figure applies pressure on her arm and she can't help the slight yelp that escapes her lips. She steps her left foot forward without further instruction. As she walks down the aisle, the happy faces fall in quick succession. Everybody has figured out things aren't going to end well. Hardison moves to take his phone out of his pocket. Eliot's left eyebrow twitches because he's just realized he can't get to the bride without getting her killed. Maggie is clasping Parker's arm to keep the tiny thief from taking unnecessary chances. Tara and Sterling are staring at the incoming pair with frowns on their faces. The groom is the most worrying sight.

Nate is beautiful in his black suit. He has a baby blue vest and matching pocket handkerchief. Unlike the groomsmen he selected no tie because he knew it would drive her crazy. Mostly, it was because he couldn't decide between the two and finally gave up. He took two steps closer to her before he realized the gun was pointing at her. Now he is staring at the men with pure hatred on his features. He's mentally calculating all of the different ways he can get her out of there. He doesn't know that he's already lost, that they've already lost.

The figure takes his time to reach the altar. Every eye is on them on high alert, even the priest is staring at the two in horror. The pain in her back is suddenly far too much. Her next step forward almost causes her to stumble. Then the figure lets her go and she falls into the mastermind's arms.

"Soph," He gasps and she winces in pain when his hand comes in contact with the stab wounds on her back.

She can hear more than see Maggie's reaction. It's a tight, quick scream as she sees the giant trail of blood running down the grifter's back. Her beautiful dress is now a decorative red back that matches the figure's vest perfectly. There are a few black patches too if Nate's shaking hands were anything to go by. He cradles her closer and closer to his chest. He is staring into her eyes with giant alligator tears. He's pushing the hair away from her face while their friends are battling the figure behind them. Her breaths are ragged and it makes him panic even more.

"Soph," he groans because he's finally figured out that she's not coming back.

"I'm sorry," she replies and cries at the horrible fact that the war has finally begun.

A gunshot running through the air sounds.

Sophie snapped from her dream instantly. She extracted herself from Nate's solid grip, a feat nobody expected to be so difficult. Then she turned around to make certain he hadn't noticed her absence. His face was already forming a frown so she had only a few minutes at most.

She raced towards the bathroom and made quick work of emptying her stomach contents, what little there was to begin with. She breathed deeply and worked very hard to get the image out of her head. Her fingers were quaking and her breath was heavy. Tears were pouring through her eyes before she could even stop it. She ran the water in the sink and tried to wipe the dream away, rinsing the metallic taste as she went.

Her eyes caught her attention instantly. Despite their red puffy nature she could still see him. The man with black eyes and black hair was staring back at her. He was staring at her with the same evil and the same contempt. Then the grifter realized she was only staring at her own reflection.

She grimaced at her own image and quickly turned off the sink. She sat down on the bathtub and tried to get her head back on straight. She took a deep breath and somehow missed the fact that her bathroom door was open. The mastermind's hands were on hers in seconds and she looked up into a field of blue. The concern in those eyes nearly scared her.

"Soph," he gasped.

He used the exact same tone in her dream and that was enough to nearly kill her. She collapsed into his arms and ignored the consequences of her actions. She just held him tight and cried her heart out. His hands were splayed across her back in an attempt to calm her. He didn't realize that was exactly how he had gripped her in the dream. It made her tears fall harder and one hand was suddenly rubbing her neck.

"It's okay," he whispered into her ear, his breath soft and warm, "Everything's going to be alright. Nothing's going to hurt you anymore. I'm here."

Sophie giggled at the words he spoke. Then she clung tighter to him out of a sudden fear of losing him. Maybe she was being paranoid but history told her this fairytale was about to end. It was always when she was happiest when things started to hit the fan. But Nate knew everything that usually held her back. She was just being silly.

"You want to talk about it?" He asked.

She shook her head and cuddled into his shoulder more. She felt like a toddler the way she was seeking comfort from him. He didn't seem to mind though if the kisses he was planting were anything to go by. They just sat there in their bathroom together. He gave her comfort and made her feel like herself again.

%

She was fourteen when she realized that what she and her father do was actually illegal. (Technically, she figured this out when she was nine, right along with the fact that Santa Claus smelled like Daddy's cologne and favorite cherry rum.) She was no longer in school, too many times transferring from country to country turned it into an at home by ear event. She didn't really mind. There were too many people who were constantly glancing at her in scorn, mostly for her brain and only a little bit for her father's career.

She had been upgraded in her tasks now. She didn't just pick pockets anymore, hasn't for a long time now anyway. She now had the pleasant ability to lead marks to her father's door. (Sometimes she even got to pretend to be his assistant, but never his daughter because that was a weakness and thieves don't have weaknesses.) Her language skills had improved to add Mandarin and the ability to speak many African dialects with little trouble. She even got to con a man out of his entire life's savings once. Her father wasn't happy with her job, she made the mistake of losing her accent at the wrong moment, but the con was a success so he didn't punish her either.

She was sixteen when her father finally decided to include her more in his cons. She was no longer leading the marks to his door. No, now she was taking point while he was the one on the side. Puberty had been kind to her. She took after her mother with her too skinny frame and flawless bone structure. Her curves had developed nicely in all the right places and her father had struggled for the last year with some of the marks paying more attention to those curves instead of his cons. (She didn't realize it was because she wasn't old enough for him to exploit that yet. She thought he was actually being protective of her.)

Her very first con was done mostly on her own because her father didn't believe in taking it slow to learn the ways. She executed the persona, Demetria Mantras, flawlessly. She even impressed her father by getting the full collection instead of just the Degas they came for. (Degas was her mother's favorite painter, at least, that was what he told her.) He smiled at her, pat her on the head and left her alone in her room for the rest of the night. That meant he was very pleased, she had learned that early on too.

It was a few months before Christmas when her first failed con happened. It wasn't even her fault. (She knows that for certain now. She spent two whole decades going over the events just to be certain. Eventually, she realized there was nothing she could have done.) Her father had messed up, badly. The mark figured out he was a con artist. He tortured the older man incessantly for a couple of hours. Her father was shot, beaten and many other horrible things. He was left for dead on the side of a street in the rural country-side of Italy. Sophie burned three aliases just to get to him and another two to get him some medical treatment from a reliable doctor who didn't ask questions. After her father's miraculous recovery, her thanked her with three broken ribs and a black eye.

"Never go back!" He had shouted at her as he kicked in rib number two, "Always keep running. Have I taught you nothing, stupid girl? Never return for anyone, even your own blood!"

Oddly enough, that was the one lesson she would never truly learn.

%

This is how kidnappings are supposed to happen. The kidnapper, or kidnappers depending on the type of person you're targeting, finds their target easily enough. He, or they, follows said target to a predetermined destination after days, weeks, sometimes months of surveillance. Then the kidnapper(s) springs up behind said target, places their hand over target's mouth and pulls the target into a car or van with very specific instructions of what will happen if the target does not go quietly. Both the kidnapper(s) and the target are aware that the target's life is no longer in his or her hands. There is a demand for ransom, if the person comes from money and that is why the target was acquired, or there is nothing more than a gunshot later on when certain information is obtained.

This is how Sophie Devereaux is kidnapped.

She walks into her brand new home, the one she is currently sharing with Nate, and places the brand new shopping bags on the kitchen floor. She does a fabulous job of sorting out the mail while pouring herself a lovely glass of milk. Then she removed her secret stash of Oreo cookies.

"Hello Monkey!"

The grifter dropped the brand new bag of Oreos, crushing them instantly. She swiftly turned around and stared at the person belonging to the familiar voice. He was older now. Wrinkles decorated every inch of his face. His hair was peppered with white streaks, but it was still as black as ever. It was his eyes that held Sophie so captive, his black eyes that mirrored her own.

He smiled at the sign of recognition. Then he approached her slowly. He kept his distance as he spoke.

"Come with me," he ordered briskly.

Sophie wanted to scream at him. She wanted to hit him in the head, kick him in the shins and run away screaming for her life. She wanted to get as far away from him as possible. But she knew better. She knew she wouldn't make it far enough to be heard. There would be no witnesses to her kidnapping. Nobody would even hear it as he broke her neck.

No, she had to go with him. Nate was due home any second and that would be bigger trouble than it was worth. So she nodded her head, slipped her ring off of her, slipped it into the drawer directly behind her, took his offered arm and carefully exited her home for the very last time. Together they walked to his carefully shaded black car. He opened the door for her and she smiled in gratitude. He was in the car before she could even think to run away. The car was already pulling out of its parking spot when she dared to look back.

Sophie stared at her new house, the house she and Nate took a very long while to find and deem as their perfect haven. She pushed back the tears that wanted to fall. She just watched all of her hopes, all of her dreams, and everything she loved most disappear behind the horizon. Then her home was gone.

"Cheer up, Monkey," her kidnapper cried rubbing circles in her hand like he was trying to be comforting, "We'll find you a better mark. In fact, I've already got one in mind."

Sophie nodded at his statement.

"Okay Daddy," she said, too busy fighting back the tears to give him a proper response.


	2. Grifter Education

She was seventeen and a half when she ran away again. (She was four when she tried the first time. Daddy had promised to never hurt her and do his best to make up for the fact that Mummy had left them. She didn't know it then, she was too young, but he conned her into staying.) She had everything planned perfectly, except her father. He stormed into their cabin at the exact moment she was pulling her last suitcase out of her bedroom. She didn't want to be his little tool anymore, he had only just asked her to give the only piece of herself she had left. He responded by pushing her down the stairs. By then she knew how to avoid dying and instead only broke one rib in the fall. He sprained her wrist and broke a few more ribs just to get his point across. She was bawling at the bottom of the steps as he packed away her bags again, giving her a few kicks to make certain she never left him again.

At the tender age of nineteen she was now pulling off highly successful sweetheart scams. Unbeknownst to her father, she was also pulling off small cons right under his nose and building up a secret stash of money under the name Annie Kroy. She was following her father's orders perfectly. (Until he was too drunk to even stay awake. Then she was committing a whole bunch of other crimes, selling items and doing everything she could to win her freedom. She knew it was highly dangerous but getting away from her father seemed to be worth it. He didn't even realize she was popping pills into his bottle anyway.) She was the perfect sight of a dutiful daughter willing to please her father at all costs, including her own happiness (and her own sanity.)

Everything was set on her twentieth birthday. Her father had brought them back to London, because the bastard still missed her mother despite the both of them. She had learned a long time ago how to hide away the bruises, the anger and her pain. It might have made her a little sadistic during cons gone wrong (two and both times it was her father's screw up but she still paid the price for it.) She was a lot better off than most people in her situation.

She had it all planned perfectly. Her father's newest bottle was already set laced with enough powder to keep him out for hours. (At this point, she didn't care about her own life let alone anyone else, especially her father. If he died it was only a bonus.) All she had to do was bump into the next man who caught her father's greedy eyes. They were at some café where normal people went to have a good time. He had a feeling their next mark was going to be the big payoff they were waiting for. She just smiled and tried not to think too much about where she would go at freedom's call. The Vatican was on that list, (but she didn't know that her plans for it would come back to bite her when it came time for her own family.)

"That's the one," her father cheered, pointing to a man too far away from Sophie to really get a good look at him.

She turned towards her father for directions, because she wasn't stupid enough to just nod and pretend she knew who he was talking about. He knew the mark and she didn't and that was that.

"Brown hair, blue polo shirt and jeans," he explained, "He's got a silver pocket watch sticking out of his right side pocket. His posture his perfectly straight and he is trying his hardest to blend in with normal people."

He chuckled darkly and Sophie recognized the spark of evil twinkling in his eyes. Her turned towards her and winked.

"He's perfect," he said, his voice dark and sinister and foreshadowing a terrible, terrible end. The grifter almost felt sorry for her father's victim.

"You better move fast," he advised with sudden worry creasing his brow, "He's caught the attention of another girl and she's advancing pretty hard."

"Then I guess a new strategy is in order," she mused as she stood to do her father's bidding for the very last time.

Her father latched onto her wrist suddenly. Danger flashed in his eyes and he was staring into her soul as if he knew her last thought. She swallowed despite herself.

"Don't get cocky on me now, Monkey," he ordered fiercely, "You're good but you are nothing without me. Never forget that."

"Of course not," Sophie agreed shrugging off his arm as if it wasn't painful.

As she walked towards her mark she puzzled over her father's reproachful warning. Had he figured out her plan? No, she had been far too careful for that to happen. Of course, she couldn't help but wonder when he had last used her name. It felt like ages at least. Maybe when she was five or six? It couldn't have possibly been when her mother had died. She would have forgotten it if that was true. Then she was suddenly on the ground and all of the contents of her purse were spread across the ground for all to see.

"Bloody Hell," she muttered in the more upper-class version of the London accent.

She quickly scrambled on her hands and knees to reclaim each and every one of her strewn items. She could mentally picture her father cursing her for being such a klutz and ruining "their" plan. She smirked in satisfaction when she took note of another person scrambling to retrieve her items as well. A flash of a blue polo shirt confirmed that it was indeed her mark "helping" her.

"I'm so sorry," he huffed towards her. He was trying to put all of her things back into her arms because he apparently had respect for people's privacy. "I didn't see you."

"Well, watch where you're going next time!" She bellowed back angrily. She couldn't really help it. He was making a big show out of something as simple as running into her. It really was frustrating when he kept slapping her hand away to take care of it himself. "You could have killed me. Now, I'm late for tea."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," he stuttered.

His hands were full of her things and shoving them into her hands quite unceremoniously. She huffed at him and gave him a glare for good measure because somebody just stepped on her favorite back and she worked really hard to convince her father to buy it for her. He stared at her as if he had been hit with a trolley, which actually was new to her. Then he looked where she was directing and gasped. He raced towards the bag and picked up the few other stray objects strewn about it.

"Thank you," Sophie chimed when she finally had a place to put everything in her arms.

"I really am sorry," he explained in a very soft, sweet voice.

"I know," she replied trying her hardest to get away so he would chase after her properly.

He had other plans though.

"Let me make it up to you," he begged, "I'll be your escort to tea."

"No, thank you," she replied smiling towards him kindly, "I don't ride with strangers who ram into me while I'm walking on the street."

Then she side-stepped him and started walking away again. She made it a successful two steps before he was in front of her again, waving something in front of her face to get her attention.

"What?" She asked, heavily annoyed because he was really starting to get on her nerves.

"You forgot this," he said, shoving it in front of her face urgently.

Suddenly his cheeks turned red and his eyes grew big. Sophie wanted to know why but she kind of captivated by his eyes. They were blue-green in color and were very pretty. Of course, the man she was staring at wasn't hard on the eyes at all. He had dark brown hair and a nose that was lightly speckled with freckles that oddly only enhanced his looks. He had a dimple on his chin and he easily stood a full foot taller than her. He shook his hand roughly and the grifter rolled her eyes and looked down to see what he was talking about. She blinked at the image she saw.

The grifter burst into a bout of giggles despite herself. Out of all the things the man could have picked up last, a tampon was not what she expected. She looked up at his face again and laughed harder. His cheeks were even redder than they had been only moments ago.

"Will you just take it?" He hissed quietly. He was looking around to see if anybody noticed their conversation which only made the grifter laugh harder.

"I'm sorry," she muttered taking the offered item and placing it back in her purse where it belonged, "It's just… your face was priceless. How old are you anyway?"

"Twenty-three," he growled, grinding his teeth together in frustration of the fact that she was still laughing at him.

"I'm sorry," she said again, "I'm really not trying to be rude."

And she really wasn't. It was the first time she had an honest laugh in a good while. Her body was so unused to it that it couldn't stop. Mentally she knew it was only damaging her con not helping it, but it was just so amusing.

"It's just," she continued, ignoring the little voice telling her not to continue, "You should be used to those things by now. It's a common female problem after all."

"Ha-ha," he deadpanned but he did release a tiny giggle and that made the grifter grin in triumph, "I guess it is kind of funny."

"Well," she giggled again, "as I said before I'm late for tea. Good-bye."

"I'll escort you to your tea time," he said latching onto her arm a little tightly.

"It's only across the street," she replied, "It's no big deal."

"Then let me make it up to you," he proposed softly startling the grifter completely. (Her tricks didn't usually work so well and she was quietly filing the information away for later.)

"What do you propose?" She asked, startled by her own boldness under the circumstances. Her father would be angry but as long as he got paid it didn't really matter. He was always angry.

"Skip tea and let me buy you a pint," he smiled towards her with a suave grin that said he knew she wouldn't refuse. She'd be insulted by his presumption if it wasn't true.

"And why would I do that?" She asked just for propriety's sake, "I don't even know you."

"Then let's fix that," he said, "I'm Will."

"Charlotte," she said, taking his offered hand and shaking it a bit too firmly.

He quirked an eyebrow at it but made no comment. In fact, he actually smirked at the challenge she presented.

"So, Charlotte," he said, "Would you like to join me for a pint?"

"It would be my honor," she replied. Together they walked towards the local pub as if nothing happened.

And that was how she met William Prentice, the Eighteenth Duke of Hanover.

%

"Now I've got everything in order," her father informed her very softly.

He was oddly quiet as they entered their borrowed home. They were still in Portland, somewhere near the outskirts of town. It was a smart choice. Nate would think she had skipped town immediately, if he didn't find the ring. If he did find the ring than it would be a confirmation that she was kidnapped and he would call the team. That would buy them a day. Hardison was just too good with his computer.

"Our plane will be leaving tomorrow afternoon," her father explained with a polite and excited smile.

"Isn't that playing a little too close to the wire?" She asked. She mentally kicked herself for that because that was not their dynamic. He told her what would happen and she nodded, she did not argue.

"I'm betting that they'll be so focused on finding our location that they won't think about when we'll actually leave town," he shrugged, "Plus, you look like you could use a rest. Are you feeling well?"

"Just tired, Daddy," she replied with another smile she didn't like. She probably should get used to that too.

"I'll make something for dinner for us," he proposed with another smile and he suddenly left as if they were never having a conversation at all.

The grifter frowned at that but she just shrugged and continued on her merry little way. She stopped at the staircase. She moved into the kitchen before she could persuade herself out of it. Her father looked up at her in confusion, it was no secret that as a child she was never a good cook (of course, her father was so drunk out of his mind that she had no choice but to figure it out on her own. She only burnt down their safe-house when she was six because her arm was in a sling, courtesy of her father of course.)

"I've developed an allergy to fish," she shrugged in explanation, "and I don't know if it's all fish or just a handful. Onions don't agree with me either and peppers and I are not on speaking terms."

"Somebody got you to try a fish taco?" Her father guessed in confusion.

She smiled politely at him.

"Well," she said, "It was delicious. N… My mark almost took me to the hospital because I was sick. One trip to the doctor later and I found out I'm allergic to fish."

"I'll make you something special then," her father smiled at her. Then he dismissed her with a curt and pointed nod towards the staircase.

She didn't need telling twice. She scrambled up the steps and tried to decide her next plan of action. Escape was on the top of her list but she had to figure out a way to do so without endangering the others. She slid into her designated bedroom and gasped at how much it looked like the one she left behind so many years ago. She always knew her father was mental.

She raced to her bathroom and searched through the cabinet. Everything she would need for the next two days was nicely tucked away. How long had he known she was there?

Dinner began in silence. Well, the grifter tried to make it as silent as possible. Her father absolutely refused to work with her plans.

"I'm not mad that you ran away," he said quite pleasantly, "What other choice did you have? I mean, you were literally pushed right on out of my life."

Sophie made no move to offer him a conversation. She was too absorbed in her own thoughts to allow that to happen. There were too many memories of Happy Daddy much too quickly turning into Evil Daddy after luring her into his grasp. She learned a long time ago that he usually only talked to hear his own voice.

"She's no longer in the picture," he admitted softly, "I chose you over her. I spent a long time looking for you. This time around I promise you get to make the plans. I will listen to whatever you say and we'll be a team like we used to be."

"Okay," she nodded with a quick, flashy smile.

She knew he was lying through his teeth. She saw the news reports on a mysterious body found beaten into a bloody pulp. She did the research, thanks to Hardison's amazing tutelage. She knew full well what he did to the woman she hired to take him off her hands. He absolutely reeked of booze. The slight shake to his hands showed he was cutting back, but that didn't mean he was weaning himself off of the stuff. No, he came to her because he needed money. He was too old to pull off cons anymore. He realized a little too late that he burned a very important bridge and now he was back because he knew she feared him above all other things. (That used to be true. There are now four people's deaths she feared most of all.)

"Tomorrow, Monkey," her father promised softly, "Our lives are going to change. I found the perfect score, our final score."

"I can't wait," she lied. She had already had her last score. She was done with grifting, but he wouldn't care about that. He wanted her because she could get the money. She was his tool once again, his pretty little tool.

%

"Will you marry me?"

Those words had haunted Sophie… no, Charlotte ever since William asked. She had said yes without even pausing and it wasn't until after the high had worn off that she realized what she had done. Now, she was trying to convince her father it was a good idea to help better establish her cover.

He saw it as an opportunity to scam William out of more money. Plus, his daughter would have a grand title and finally have a cover nobody could question. He was more excited over their engagement than he had been over any other crime they committed. The only problem was his daughter.

She wasn't in the mood for conning William. She wanted to be honest with him, had been a bit more than she should have. They had only been dating for six months and he proposed marriage. She had him wrapped around her finger and it wasn't fair because she was afraid. She was afraid of what her father would do if she decided to stop with this. She liked William. She liked the life he was giving her and he went through the trouble of teaching her proper peerage procedure. He was kind and gentle and everything her father wasn't.

She was pretty sure she was in love with him.

She had known for a while actually. Ever since he asked her on a second date during their first one, she was his. She was dead positive of it. He just kept surprising her by playing off the fact that he was rich. The only reason she even knew he was rich was that she was trained to see it. But she would keep forgetting it whenever he did something silly. Like that time when he fell face first into a pond full of ducks.

"Why did you do that?" She asked giggling at him so much her ribs hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt. (That concept had been foreign to her until she met William.)

"Because making you smile all the time is my life's goal," he replied.

Her cheeks had flushed at his abrupt approach and it was a genuine blush. At some point during the day she had forgotten to con. She was actually have a brilliant time and nothing could stop her. William went out of his way to make sure of it.

"Then what do you want?" She asked when she managed to finish chuckling and gained enough air to speak like a normal human being.

"You by my side forever," he replied.

"That doesn't seem fair," she hollered in disapproval, her not the persona and it felt good, "I'm the only one benefitting from this relationship."

"So you agree that we are in fact in a relationship," he asked suddenly invading her personal space with a look of wonder on his features.

"Only if you kiss me right now," she ordered boldly.

He didn't need telling twice. Life just kept getting brighter and brighter as she and William continued their courtship. Eventually they realized they were spending more time together than apart. Instead of doing the normal thing and separating themselves, they moved in together. (Her father approved of this because it put her in a position of power of their mark. She, of course, forgot to inform him that William was no longer a mark.) Weeks turned into months until William finally ended up on one knee.

"I know I'm not good enough," he had told her in some bizarre belief that it was true (It wasn't. He was a saint.) "I know you deserve so much more than I can give."

"Don't say that," she ordered briskly, "There's nobody better than you." (At the time she thought that was true, until she meant the honest Nathan Ford.)

"You deserve somebody with the power to get whatever you want with a snap of his finger," he continued with a roll of his eyes because he hated it when she interrupted him and she loved to interrupt him. "I know I've got a lot compared to most but I will do everything in my power to meet your every need and whim. I'll make sure you never want for everything, I promise."

"You already promised you'd make me laugh," she said, shaking her head in confusion because she had no idea what was going on. (Her sweetheart scams usually ended before the proposal. She was too unfamiliar with cinema still. William introduced her to its powerful gaze. Her father hated films with a passion.)

"If that's what you want than that's what you'll get," he winked, "but there's something very important I want you to hear so don't say another word or I will kiss you senseless."

"If you insist," she purred. Then she licked her lips because she knew it drove him crazy.

"I love you, Charlotte," he said and something in her stomach knotted because that wasn't her real name, "And I plan on doing so until the day I die and beyond. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she replied suddenly teary-eyed and unable to see.

%

There was a soft knock on the door. Her father was nowhere around. She looked everywhere to find him but he seemed completely out of earshot of the knock on the door. So, the grifter shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the incessant knocking. She immediately regretted the action when she actually opened the door.

Nate was staring at her with such big, innocent blue eyes. He looked relieved when he stared at her. Then he was suddenly in her personal space and looking right and left. Sophie pulled him inside before she thought better of it. By the time she realized what a bad idea it was he was already looking around for cameras, scoping it out as if it belonged to a mark. Then his hands were on her shoulders and he was looking into her eyes for something.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Sophie didn't know what to say so she just nodded her head. He let go of a heavy breath after that. Yet his arms refused to be removed from her shoulders.

"Sophie," he said, "I need you to be honest with me right now. Did he hurt you?"

"No," she said confusion setting in.

The mastermind must have caught onto her because his eyebrows automatically creased with worry. He stepped closer to her and looked her dead in the eyes again.

"So you didn't send me this postcard?" He asked, bringing attention to a crumpled up piece of paper in his hands, "I knew it wasn't your handwriting. Parker thought it was and Hardison was trying to find a way of comparing it properly. Eliot had his doubts as well but the loops were wrong."

"Nate," Sophie gasped, "I…"

Once again, her timing was all wrong.

"What's going on?" Her father shouted.

He was staring at her in confusion. Then his eyes landed on their visitor and his eyes sparked with anger. He took a few threatening steps forward. Nate countered by standing in between the threat and Sophie.

"I'm getting her out of here," Nate announced angrily, "and I suggest you let me if you don't want something bad to happen to you."

Her father stepped forward with violence bristling off his every muscle. The grifter had no choice but to act.

"Daddy, please!" She called in warning. She felt the mastermind tense in front of her. She could almost imagine the look of horror on his features when she said that. She imagined there was betrayal there as well.

"I'll handle this," she said.

Before the mastermind or her father could question further she pushed through the front door. Nate was deciding whether or not to fight against her. His shock was working against him but that didn't matter. He looked absolutely horrified by what he just discovered. Then the concern took over and he stopped their progress towards the side-yard.

"Sophie, what's going on?" He asked, "You just disappear out of thin air and you left your ring in a drawer. I thought something bad happened. I thought you were dead or worse."

"How did you find me?" She asked, distracting him for the horrors he was too close to realizing.

"I called the team," he replied, "I had Hardison trace everything we knew to find you. We just lucked out that you were wearing a pair of shoes with trackers in them."

"You brought the team into this?" She practically screamed at him, "How could you do that? What were you thinking? Why would you bring them into this?"

Nate stared at her with calculating eyes. He was trying to figure out why she would be so frightened. He had his "I'm figuring out your con" face on again.

"Is he holding you against your will?" He demanded breathlessly.

"_Yes!"_ She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, "_Yes, he's keeping me captive to do his dirty work and I don't want to be anywhere near him! Please take me away!"_

Instead she forced her face to contort into one of more confusion. She forced her eyes to narrow at his suggestion and she took a long, deep breath. She hoped against hope that she was pulling off a look of pure anger. She didn't want him to figure her out when it was already too late. She was gone. He still had a chance to get the others out alive.

"Why would he hurt me?" She growled towards him, silently pleased that her tone was what she wanted, "He's my father, Nate! He loves me."

"You didn't answer the question," the mastermind replied urgently.

He wasn't going to take anything but the truth, she knew that. So, she had to convince him that she was telling him the truth. Even if she wanted him to bust her with all of her heart.

"No," she sighed bowing her head very carefully. This was the con of a lifetime. She had to do everything she could to make it a spectacular performance. "He's my father, Nate. I just needed time away. I need to think."

"Think about what?" He asked in fear of the answer. He grabbed onto her shoulders and pulled her close, way too close.

About how much I love you and how I never want to let you go and can't you see I'm lying to you? She thought in despair of the way he was already falling for her tricks. He trusted her too much now. That was the problem. He believed she wouldn't tell him something if she didn't believe it was for a good reason and he was officially sold to believe her. It made him an easy mark for her con.

"There's a reason I left the ring, Nate," Sophie explained softly.

She stepped away from his loving, warm inviting hands and tried to give them the proper distance for her speech. She noticed his eyes were narrowed with confusion and concern. He was giving her a look she had never seen before. She already didn't know what to do and it wasn't fair. He was giving her something new to discover and she couldn't ask because she was about to destroy him completely. The others were going to hate her forever for this.

"I don't want to marry you anymore," she finished.


	3. Escape Improbable

She'd been running all of her life. At least, that's what it felt like every moment of her time with her father. He asked her to pick a few pockets, she did. He asked her to use her youthful good looks to ensnare victims into his cons, she did. He asked her to pull off a sweetheart scam, she did. He told her to marry William to give her alias respectability, she did. He ordered her not to fall in love, she didn't listen.

But none of that mattered now because she was finally free. She had finally escaped his torturous gaze and was free to make her own decisions. Her father had fallen in love too. It was a difficult con for her to pull off at first. She had to steal things right under her father's nose while he was distracted by the newest courtesan that struck his eye. Then he met Maryland Mitchell and suddenly wanted to go to America to be with her every moment of the day. He had no idea Maryland was a grifter Sophie had worked very hard to find. She had to steal a few signature pieces before the woman would agree to help her but it was well worth it. She was finally free to commit whatever crime she wanted to commit and she didn't have to hurt people to do it. She was free.

Then she, literally, ran into Nathan Ford. He'd been chasing her throughout all of Europe for the past couple of years. She knew because she would hear rumors about him being on her trail from new, reliable sources. Sure, that first job in Prague was a huge mistake. She had only just escaped her father's manipulative command. She was still learning all of the different ways her father kept her under his thumb. She didn't know there were such things as merchandise specific alarms or that I.Y.S. was an insurance company that invested in security because it was cheaper than paying for the stolen piece. (Something, she would learn later, that also applied to its own employees and their desperate, dying children.) But she was a quick learner and discovered everything her father had hidden from her throughout her career.

Now, she was in Damascus running into the very man who made her aware of her first major mistake. Well, her freedom was fun while it lasted.

"Well," Nate replied with a light chuckle at her disgruntled nature, "I can honestly say this was unexpected."

Sophie, though she had no idea she was about to choose that as her permanent title, stared at him with a blank expression. She watched as he kindly held out his hand for her to take. She took it but only because she didn't want to further ruin her brand new skirt. He pulled her up with very little effort and kindly waited until she had brushed herself off before he placed the cuff around her wrist. She glared at the play.

"It makes catching you easier," he replied with that little self-satisfied smirk of his.

"If I were that easy to catch it wouldn't have taken you two years to do it," she laughed in a charming tone. She figured she would at least try to seduce him into doing the work for her. (She had yet to learn that he was married with a newborn and thus impossible to con. It was probably why she fell in love with him anyway.)

"I knew it was you," Nate smirked not falling for her tricks despite her best efforts, "Where did the Degas go anyway?"

She raised her eyebrows in challenge. "I don't remember," she said.

The mastermind chuckled at her obvious lie. Then he un-cuffed her and held out his hand for a polite handshake.

"Nathan Ford," he introduced, unknowingly changing both of their lives forever.

"Sophie Devereaux," she replied in a British accent that was a bit more posh than her natural one. Then she grinned in victory at the slight red decorating his cheeks.

"But I'm afraid this meeting is over," she said, one foot already out of the metaphorical door.

His mouth opened wide in shock as she turned to race away. But his footsteps were hard on the pavement behind her. She was running but he wasn't far behind. Every time she ducked behind a corner his feet would sound only seconds later. Eventually she outsmarted him (because he wouldn't have been interested if she didn't) and she got away. They had no idea that was the moment that would define their relationship completely. She would run, but he would chase. Somehow, that made all the difference; to both of them.

%

Sophie reentered the house with amazingly dry eyes. She was probably still in shock of all of the things he told her. Nate begged for her to tell the truth. He pleaded with her to promise her everything she couldn't. Then he shouted at her and called her a coward and a hypocrite. She took every word he said because she knew it was true. He was in pain and it was because of her. Her father interrupted him mid-rant and ordered her to return to the house. So, she did as told and was now racing towards the window. She had already missed half of the argument.

"I don't care what you think!" Her father screamed towards the mastermind angrily, "I don't want you anywhere near her! She doesn't love you; can't you get that through your thick skull?"

"Then let her tell me," Nate shouted back, "You say you're her father but I don't believe you. For all I know you could have told her you would kill me if she didn't agree to come with you."

"She's my daughter!" Her father growled, "She says she doesn't love you and I believe her. Now get off my property before I fire off into your head."

Her father started heading for the door because he thought the conversation was over. He didn't know Nate didn't allow conversations to just end. The mastermind grabbed the older man's arm and forced him to face him. Her father flexed his left hand in agitation but the mastermind didn't care enough to notice.

"I'm not leaving without her," he explained, "Not unless I know for sure you're telling the truth."

Her father stepped into the mastermind's personal space but Nate didn't back down. In fact, he glared right back into his eyes. The two had a lovely staring contest that felt like hours of torture to the grifter.

"If you truly care for her at all, son," her father growled, "just let her go."

The mastermind met him word for word in an instant. He crossed his arms defiantly against his chest and narrowed his eyes in observation. Then his left eyebrow flicked up and he smiled.

"You're the one who sent the postcard," he realized aloud. Then he uncrossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. "Please tell Sophie that I will be waiting for her at our favorite café in town. If she doesn't show, then I get the hint and I'll never see her again."

Nate turned around and left without another look back.

A tiny tear slipped down her cheek as she watched the mastermind leave. She knew she shouldn't be upset. The con was a success and the goal was to get him as far away from her father as possible. She just couldn't help the gaping hole that suddenly appeared in her heart. But she had to keep the tears at bay for now. Her father was on his way inside.

He barged through the door moments later.

"Pack your bags," he ordered, "We're leaving."

Sophie stared at him in confusion. She jumped to her feet and stared.

"Why?" She asked, picking up a few bags to help him pack away a few objects at a time, "You heard him. As long as I don't show up he'll accept that it was all just a con. He's gone."

"He's coming back," her father replied, "We have to leave now."

"Are you sure?" She asked softly. She knew she shouldn't but she had to know. Why was he so certain the mastermind wasn't going to do what he said? He didn't know Nate, she did. He said he was going to wait for her and he was going to wait.

Thankfully her father didn't get angry at her questions. Instead he looked a little worried. That was odd, her father didn't feel worried.

"I saw it in the way he looked at you," he explained, "He's not going to just let you go. He's too selfish."

"_No, he knows I'm lying_" Sophie wanted to correct sharply. Instead she just nodded her head and rushed to gather up her clothes. He grabbed her arm roughly, pulling him towards her while shaking his head in warning.

"We'll get you a whole new wardrobe," he replied, ignoring the increasing pressure he was applying to her arm, "Just grab enough to be believable that we were here on vacation."

The grifter nodded her head in understanding and winced when the pressure was gone. She ignored the fact that there was going to be a bruise soon. It was nothing new. She dealt with it for half of her life. She could deal with it again.

%

Paris was the city of love and lights and for Sophie Devereaux that was true. She constantly enjoyed taking a stroll around the Seine at night. The Eiffel tower, and Paris in general, looked so much better with the stars shining brightly in the background. Even the air felt wondrous in the middle of the night. That was the very specific reason why most of Sophie's crimes in Paris happened at night. It was a magical time and perfect for that little electric bolt of lightning in the pit of her stomach during a con.

Until she met Nathan Ford. He changed Paris.

He had already gotten to the point of being very successful at ruining most of her cons by the time they got to Paris. She had lost more merchandise because of Nathan Ford than any man alive. It was quite infuriating. The last time they had met had ended with her narrowly escaping a shoot-out in Tokyo. (Later, she would learn that Nate had done his best to get them off of her trail but at the time she thought he was trying to kill her.) She started carrying a gun with her as a precaution ever since. She hadn't targeted I.Y.S. in three solid months when she found a perfect target in Paris.

He was rich, naïve and young; her three basic essentials. She stumbled upon him during a midnight gala. She hooked him by only showing herself at night in places he just so "happened" to share in common with her. A few pleasantries, a business date and a slightly less than professional date later and she was finally able to steal all of the paintings she so desired. Her mark was out of town and had absolutely no idea she made a copy of each and every one of his keys. His employees were more loyal to her than him anyway, she was nicer after all. All she had to do was take the paintings the very night he left and she could play the blissfully ignorant "friend" there to comfort him in his time of need. Of course, at the time she had no idea the mark left because his insurance agency was updating his security.

She could have killed him when he shot her.

"You wanker!" She howled his way, it was the best she could come up with in such short notice. Sure she'd been shot before but never immediately after she shot the man aiming the gun.

"You shot me first," he replied as if he was speaking on autopilot. It was as though he actually felt guilty for shooting her. Why would he care? He was only doing his bloody job. (He would secretly still regret shooting her until they finally decided to duke it out directly in front of their teammates one day. Eliot, Parker and Hardison looked highly torn between amusement and horror when they realized they both shot each other. They all finally burst into laughter when Sophie shouted that she had forgiven him the moment it happened. They ran out of the mastermind's apartment real quickly when Nate initiated a very heated and passionate kiss in gratitude.)

"Well," she replied back bitterly still confused by his tone and the pain in her back wasn't helping, "You told me to freeze. I had to do something!"

"Freeze means stop moving, Devereaux," he howled. He was still stumbling back a bit and that was dangerous. He needed to take a moment and breathe. He needed something shocking to pull out of his shock.

"Don't call me Devereaux!" She hissed nearly falling to the floor for a reason she couldn't quite comprehend. Maybe he hit her somewhere more vital than she thought. "My name is Sophie. Call me Sophie or I won't help you with your shoulder."

"You're a thief," he replied in complete confusion, "Why would you help me?"

"You'll owe me," she waved off.

She was already making a bee-line for his shoulder. Her purse was sitting on the chair beside him with all of the necessary supplies anyway. Her father had taught her long ago to always be prepared for the worst. She even had a package of emergency clothes, make-up and shoes that would come in handy for the rest of the night.

"Owe you one?" He questioned, complying despite his words, "You're the one who shot me."

"And you shot me back," she agreed, checking his shoulder very carefully, "That makes us even. I patch you up and keep you from dying and you will owe me the favor of letting me go. Now hold still. I can't tell if the bullet went all the way through when you keep fidgeting."

He stopped moving immediately. She was thoroughly impressed with how well he was taking the pain too. Even when they removed his shirt and jacket for better observation, he didn't give so much as a hiss of complaint. He had a surprisingly high pain tolerance. There was a story there, Sophie was sure of that. (She later found out the story and regretted ever asking. Nate had to get her drunk just to keep her from making a call to a friend who knew how to sink boats.)

Instead she just grumbled about his horrible timing.

"So why did you choose this weekend of all weekends to track me down?" She asked.

"I didn't," he replied quite honestly, "I.Y.S. sent me to make certain the security for his art collection was done correctly. It was part of his contract to join our company."

"Of course," she rolled her eyes, "at least that explains how you were able to figure out my plan so quickly. You entered here, expecting to find the security men doing their work and instead discover that only the butler is on duty."

"I smelled your perfume in the air and heard noise upstairs," he said, "You weren't that hard to track after that. Then I get shot for doing my job."

She smacked him lightly on the head.

"You shot me too," she said, "Let us not forget that, Nathan!"

"Nate," he corrected immediately, "Not Nathan."

She raised an eyebrow at that but made no further statement. She had him patched up in no time and he quickly forced her to undergo the same treatment. Only, she still had the bullet lying around and he decided to yank that out instead of just letting it be for her doctor. She wasn't the only one surprised that she didn't yelp in pain.

"I see you've got a high pain tolerance as well," he mused.

"Fair is fair," she shook a finger sternly towards him. She felt it wasn't nearly as effective when she wasn't facing him, "You have to share a story if I do."

"Agreed," he said but he didn't say anything else. He just finished patching her up and let her go without a fuss.

She left the paintings behind as part of their silent agreement.

%

They were in the airport, waiting for their plane to hurry up and get them out. Her father had grumbled and despaired for an hour as they went through security when Sophie mentioned she was hungry. He ground his teeth together in agitation but immediately gave into her wish.

"Stay here," he ordered fiercely. His eyes were darting around the airport in search of danger.

He dragged her as close to the men's bathroom as he could get. She felt like a child the way he refused to let her out of his sight for even a moment. It didn't really matter. She was just going to make a pit stop at one of the stores and purchase a new pair of shoes. Then she remembered Hardison would be looking for that kind of purchase and that was the absolute worst thing she could do. She had to keep her father as far away from her family as possible. Besides, in Europe she had somebody who could give her exactly what she needed.

"I'll be right back," he father explained before disappearing into the men's room.

The grifter considered running away and taking her chances with her team. That thought was quickly vetoed when she remembered that her father had connections even Eliot didn't want to mess with. No, she was going to have to take care of this mess herself.

"Hello, Sophie," a husky voice whispered into her ear.

The grifter spun around with alarm on her features. Nathan Ford was standing in the airport bathroom with a smile on his face. He reached out a hand to caress her face and she couldn't help but lean into the touch. Then she silently cursed her body for forgetting the con. She backed away from him urgently but he didn't look hurt. No, he looked satisfied with whatever thoughts were going through his mind. She accidentally confirmed something she wasn't trying to.

"Nate," she croaked. She flinched at how raw and frightened her voice sounded. She wasn't supposed to sound like that. She was supposed to sound happy but her body was in protest of the idea apparently.

The mastermind smiled kindly towards her and gently grabbed her elbow. She hissed at the contact and mentally cursed herself again for being the worst grifter in history. The concern in his eyes was too much. He frowned at the noise issuing from her lips and immediately lifted the arm for better inspection. Anger and disgust filled his every feature before he even had a chance to switch back to his usual blank stare.

"Who did this to you?" He growled, his voice as soft as the roar of a lion.

"I hit my elbow on the table," she lied immediately.

This time he flinched. His blue eyes turned towards hers and sadness suddenly took over. The grifter felt the instinctual pull to comfort him. She even raised her hand and brushed away some of his hair. He wanted answers she would never be able to give.

"Why are you letting him get away with this?" He asked, kissing her hand and taking her comfort despite the both of them.

Sophie opened her mouth to answer. She had the lie right there on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn't use it, not on him. She just lowered her arm from his grasp and stepped back. The mastermind's eyes ached at the intentional play for space. He reached towards her but she shook her head and stepped back.

"He really is my father, Nate," she felt the need to explain.

"Doesn't that make everything worse?" He demanded harshly stepping towards her again with hope in his eyes.

"He needs me," she tried again stepping back just to see if the space would stick.

It didn't. He was right there in her personal space within seconds. She didn't even have the heart to push him away this time. Their magnetic pull had somehow gotten stronger over the years. It really was impossible to keep them apart. Of course, it took them years to come together ironically enough.

"Get away from her!"

Sophie jumped away from the mastermind instantly at her father's command. All she could picture was the bloodbath that would soon begin, but neither man made a move. In fact, they were doing nothing more than staring at each other angrily.

"I gave you my demands," Nate growled towards the man.

"And your answer is obviously no," her father responded in kind.

"Why don't you let her tell me that?" The mastermind hollered.

He refused to turn away from her father and Sophie felt the familiar air of eyes on her. She looked towards the ceiling and noticed a security camera pointed directly at her. It shook right to left in a wave and the grifter knew Hardison and Parker were working together to tell her they were there.

"We're going to miss our flight, Daddy," Sophie purred right on cue.

"Is that good enough for you?" Her father demanded angrily.

The mastermind didn't even acknowledge him this time. Instead he turned towards the grifter and stared at her. His blue eyes were searching every contour of her face. He was searching for the lie. He was trying to see if she was telling the truth or if it was just another ruse to get him away. She didn't say anything because he knew her voices, he would know if she was lying. So she stared stubbornly back and turned towards her father impatiently. She noticed a slight tilt to the mastermind's lips in her peripheral.

"Let's go," she said then she turned towards the mastermind with a sad expression, "Nate, I need time to think. Please give me the space I ask for."

The mastermind said nothing. He knew she would detect a lie too. He just nodded his head and left. The grifter sighed in relief. Her father looked towards her with concern.

"I'm very good at what I do," she shrugged, "You taught me that."

Then she grabbed her bag and led the way to their gate. She ignored the lurking hitter with all of her might. Her father wasn't stupid. He would get them another flight as soon as they landed with new aliases and a new place to go. Her team wouldn't be able to follow after a while. Their window was too small now.

"It's alright, Monkey," her father said pulling her into his side in a way he had never done before, "Once we're out they won't be able to follow. I have plans, big plans."

Sophie tried her hardest not to grimace at the irony.

%

Nate had been chasing her for years. He even asked her to help on a few jobs to find the person responsible for the crime. But never had he just barged in on her in the middle of a con and stole her away under the guise of an ex-boyfriend. That was highly new.

"Nate, what are you doing?" She hissed. Her accent had started out Nigerian and slowly faltered back to her British one when he came into the picture. She was dead certain he knew the difference too.

"No more cons," he yelled at her, quite unnecessarily considering he interrupted her con, "I don't want you doing anything dangerous, not anymore! You're done, you understand?"

"And who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?" She hissed back right on cue. She couldn't help but be angry because now she had a mess to clean up and it was all because he felt the need to tell her to stop being a grifter? No, that was not how they worked.

"I'm a friend," he replied sounding far too broken than he had only moments ago.

"Nate," she said suddenly catching the tone and the lack of light in his eyes, "What happened?"

Concern enveloped her as she finally took in all of his appearance. His clothes were rumpled. His hair was a mess. His hands kept shaking if he kept them still for a little too long. He hadn't shaved in a day or two, long enough to find her probably. Something bad happened.

"Sam!" She guessed immediately with true fear all over her features. She knew how much he loved that little boy, his little boy. She knew, even then, that the boy's death would kill him. (This fact she didn't fully realize until they met again in Chicago and started working together. Sometimes Sophie should listen to her own thoughts where Nathan was concerned.)

"No, this isn't about Sam!" He screamed at her, but she could tell by the defeated look in his eyes that he wasn't telling the truth, "This is about you! You can't keep living this type of life, Sophie! One of these days you're not going to get lucky! I'm not always going to be able to protect you when your con goes wrong. One day somebody is going to sneak up on you and kill you!"

Sophie stared at him as he ranted about the dangers of her chosen profession. She knew he was trying to distract himself and she also knew it was the worst thing he could do. So she waited for the perfect opening and slammed him into facing the mess he was in.

"What happened to Sam?" She demanded immediately. She ignored the fact that her voice sounded pained to her own ears. "Was he hit by a car? Was it some old foe coming back for revenge? Is he still alive? What can I do to help?"

The last one got his attention. In fact, it got both of their attentions because neither one expected that question to ever happen. Nate stared at her in shock while she tried to push the sudden emotions aside. She couldn't afford to disappear on him now. He needed her. She didn't know why but he needed her and she was going to be there. When had that happened? (This question would be still bugging her when he showed up in Chicago. Sadly, it wouldn't be answered until that stupid, ridiculous, good-bye kiss on the Maltese Falcon. Yes, she still hated him for that.)

"There's nothing you can do," he replied. All of his fervent yelling was gone now. He just collapsed onto the closest chair and stared at her with absolute despair. "Sam has cancer."

"Well, there's treatment for that," she argued immediately, smiling slightly in relief that it was something curable. She knew some people. She could pull some strings and get him exactly what he needs. Everything would be okay.

"Stage four, Soph," he cried. He suddenly couldn't look her in the eyes and she felt as though he wasn't telling her everything. Maybe he blamed her for not coming to him sooner. Of course, she should have been giving him more attention so she guessed he was right.

"I know some very powerful people, Nate," she argued lightly, gently placing her hand on his knee and squeezing tightly, "Even stage four can be cured with the right equipment and I have the right equipment."

"I should have asked for your help when it could have done something," he mumbled. He thought it was under his breath but it wasn't. Sophie heard it ringing through her head, for many years later as well as during that moment. (Afterwards, when she finally got the courage to ask, he explained that he didn't think of it until it was too late. She ignored the fact that he was lying to her face and he made up for it whenever he could. She silently agreed that she probably would have never helped him if he had asked. They both needed to believe she was capable of that selfishness back then.)

"You're asking now," she said with another plastic smile on her face. She silently wondered when she could tell her smiles were faked around him. He seemed to be wondering the same thing.

"No," he sighed holding her hand as if in apology, "It's already too late, Sophie."

She understood in an instant why he was there. He was about to lose his son and he couldn't face it. He came to her because she would force him to go back. She would make him live through it because she knew him. He would never forgive himself for missing even that moment in his son's life.

"You need to go home and be there for your son, Nate," she told him straight out because he was probably expecting something else and she wouldn't do that to him. Then she took notice of her right hand gently rubbing against his temple in comfort.

"The cure was right there, Sophie," he gasped softly, "It was right there in my hands and I didn't act when I should have. Sam's dying because of me."

"No, Nate," she shook her head, "You did everything you could."

"How would you know?" He accused, "I didn't even come to you."

"Because I know you," she smiled kindly towards him, "You're an honest man. You did everything you could to save your son from dying legally. I'll take care of the rest my way."

"You don't even know…" he began. Then he bit his tongue and shook his head roughly. He was hiding something, something that was going to kill him if he didn't let it go.

"Tell me, Nate," she ordered, forcing him to face her, "I'll take care of it."

"Ian…" he said hesitantly, his moral code was still standing in his way. (It was probably the last honest thing he ever did.) "Blackpoole, my boss… he, uh… He denied Sam's treatment."

"What do you mean he denied Sam's treatment?" She questioned, her voice shrill and full of angry, "How could he deny Sam's treatment?"

"It's company policy to deny all new insurance claims until they have been properly investigated," he replied sounding as if those very words had been haunting him for a very long time.

"Stalled you mean," Sophie hissed in complete and utter disbelief. How could anybody be so cruel? "You've worked for that company for twenty years! You've saved them millions, billions maybe! How can he deny your son? You've given them your life!"

"Sophie!" Nate shouted in surprise, "I know."

"Nate, why are you here?" She demanded softly. It was the one thing that had been bugging her ever since he appeared. What could he possibly need from her that she didn't already give him?

"I don't know," he replied, "I guess I just wanted revenge."

"That's not why you're here," she shook her head.

He glared at her then. It was such a Nate thing to do that she almost sighed in relief. Then she remembered who she was dealing with. Nathan Ford only ever showed one emotion to hide another far more important one. So she glared back and made certain the expression he read told him he wouldn't be getting away without saying the truth. He got the hint and his expression turned defeated just as suddenly.

"If Sam dies," Sophie winced at the hope in his voice as he spoke, "I won't be chasing you anymore."

"Are you saying good-bye, Nathan?" She asked with a charming smile. She tried to make her voice light with laughter so he wouldn't have to deal with the pity anymore. She was certain she only missed the mark by a small margin.

He gave her a simple look and she knew everything he was saying. Yes, this was good-bye but it was so much more than that. It was a good-bye with an "I will always miss you" vibe. After this moment they would never see each other again. Only fate could prove them wrong. (And boy did it prove them both wrong when he found her in Chicago. That was probably when she actually started believing in fate and the rest of the things he whispered in her ear when they worked together before the team and Sam and everything. She didn't actually realize he was right until they found each other in Boston. Then she was a very firm believer that fate was either an evil prankster or a divine power that deserved worship. She still wasn't sure.)

"My flight leaves in three hours," he replied, "Want to get a cup of coffee?"


	4. Poisoned Plan

The flight out of town wasn't as far away as Sophie had originally thought. No, apparently her father had plans to stay in the States for an indeterminate amount of time. It made sense. Hardison would automatically assume that her father would return them to Europe or somewhere far away. Of course, the poor hacker wasn't going to be behind for long. But her father had bought them time. That was all that mattered.

"Of all the places you could have picked," she said, "You had to choose a Portland flight to Boston and then a trip to Chicago."

"Too predictable?" He asked of her as if he really wanted her opinion and was worried by her statement.

"No," she said, "It's just… unexpected."

"Originally I was going to take us straight to Europe but I discovered that your mark's hacker was too good for that," he explained rather excitedly, "But I knew he wouldn't be expecting us to make a slow move out of the States. We can pick anywhere we want, Monkey! We'll be free in a matter of days."

"Okay, Daddy," she nodded smiling at his words despite the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. For some reason her father was easily fooled by her antics and she was going to take full advantage of it.

"We'll hide out here for a few days and make our way to Japan," her father explained softly. He sounded excited over the challenge of escaping her teammates. He had no idea who he was messing with. She almost felt sorry for him. Well, she pitied his confidence in his abilities.

"Then we'll go wherever you want, Monkey," he finished, "Like I said you get to pick and choose. When our big score is done you get to make all of the calls."

"Okay, Daddy," Sophie smiled at her father's story. The sad thing, she was pretty certain he was actually being serious. Maybe he was trying to change. Then she remembered who she was observing and quickly dismissed the idea. Even Jimmy Ford couldn't change after decades of not knowing his son. Why would her father be any different?

"Monkey," he called after her, worry suddenly slipping in, "Our lives are going to change. This is the score to end all scores. If you say we walk, we walk."

His face was so eager. His hardened features seemed to be happy almost blissful. There was no hatred in his eyes and he didn't seem to be as haunted as he used to be. He was even starting to wear his old clothes, the kind that weren't tailored specifically to his frame but were more rumpled and lived in than before. Sophie even felt a small smile tug at her lips at the idea that maybe she would get to know her real father instead of the Evil Daddy she had known for so long. Then he pulled out three bottles of scotch and dashed her hopes away. If he was still drinking, she wasn't safe. She never would be.

As long as he was alive, that is.

%

It had been weeks since the stupid Second David fiasco. Blackpoole was finally in prison where he belonged and everybody was done with each other. Sophie was even trying her hand at being an honest citizen again. She had already gotten the lead in the local musical. Rehearsals were amazing and she was starting to feel as though the world was right. But there was a gaping hole in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't explain.

Sophie, not being used to such odd things even remotely close to real feelings, didn't know what to do. She knew it had something to do with Nate, she was certain. If he hadn't been so obsessed with his bloody past and if she hadn't been so angry with him for it, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe they would still be a team and not five broken people. Oh!

Before Sophie Devereaux even knew what she was doing, she was dialing his number. Nerves were suddenly forming in the pit of her stomach when he finally decided to answer.

"Hello," he said, his voice slightly tired.

"Did I wake you?" She asked in concern. Maybe she should have called at a better time. It was only ten o'clock in Boston. He was probably still on the west coast which meant it was pretty early.

"No," he replied, "No, Soph, I'm awake."

Sophie smiled at his soft tone. It was close to the one she remembered when they were both playing that terrible game of cat and mouse. He even sounded happy, well as happy as he was going to get. Nathan Ford didn't do happy anymore.

"What's up, Soph?" He asked, concern slipping into his voice for some reason. The grifter didn't really care. Her stomach flipped because of his concern for her.

"Nothing," she lied, "I just… haven't talked to you in a while."

"There's that voice again," he joked but his tone did take on a darker sound.

"It's not what you think," she defended automatically. She was silently cursing herself for trying to do this again, trying to fool him. If he hadn't been so bent on revenge he would have noticed it sooner and corrected her error. She used his grief against him and that was…

"What do you want, Sophie?" He growled. The grifter winced at the lack of nickname falling from his lips. She should have known this would happen.

"I-" she said, somehow struggling to find the right words, "I- I, uh, I- I wanted to tell you-"

"Sophie," Nate interrupted softly, "Why did you call me?"

"It was my fault," she finished. Then her eyes grew wide at what she just revealed. How did she do that? She'd never done anything like that in all her life, at least not honestly. She meant the words she said and that was weird and completely unprofessional and so many things were going to go wrong…

"What?" He gasped. He sounded just as in shock as she was. He was probably trying to comprehend her words too.

"I," she tried, "Where are you?"

"Boston," he replied without pause, "Sophie, what are you trying to tell-"

"You're in Boston?" She asked, already picking up her purse and laying down some bills. She had been at a small café on the Northside. The subway was only a few blocks away. She could get there in no time flat. So, she started walking in the direction with no idea who she would run into. "Great, how about we meet-"

She didn't even get to finish the sentence when she bumped into somebody unexpectedly. She hadn't been paying attention to anything but her phone call so she only had herself to blame. That was why she was suddenly sitting on the ground instead of walking again. Then she looked up at the person she bumped into, the apology already forming on her lips.

"Sophie?" Nate gasped, his phone still tightly clasped to his ear. One of his hands was holding tightly onto hers in an apparent attempt to stop her from falling. It didn't quite work.

The grifter stared at him in complete shock of his appearance. The mastermind kindly helped her to her feet and she couldn't help but stare at him.

"I'm sorry," she muttered out suddenly.

He blinked at her in confusion. His forehead crinkled and his lips tilted down. His gaze was intense as he tried to understand what she was saying. The grifter couldn't help but feel captivated by his gaze.

"For not telling you about the Second David," she replied, stumbling over her words for the very first time in front of him, "and for using your son and your ex-wife and your revenge and-"

"Stop," he said, holding up a hand to block her out.

The grifter's lips closed automatically at the command. She bowed her head in defeat and stepped back a bit. His hands were on her arms pulling her back instantly. Then his right pointer finger was telling her to look him in the eyes again. She politely refused.

"Sophie, look at me." She did.

A field of pure blue was staring back at her with pure confusion and something new. (This she would later learn was adoration but at the time they were still dealing with their own problems. Plus, she was in denial and he refused to figure himself out.)

"I forgave you the moment you came back," he admitted softly as if it was common knowledge and she just wasn't paying attention when it happened.

This time it was her turn to be confused. She blinked at his simple statement and tried to figure out when she missed the memo. Apparently it showed she was coming up empty because his hands were on her shoulders again.

"Sterling was right," he said with only a tiny hint of irony in his voice and facial expressions, "Trading the Second David Parker really was the only way you could learn. But he was thinking of the wrong lesson."

"What was I supposed to learn?" She spat towards him angrily.

She backed away from his caring arms and looked at him through narrowed eyes. How dare he tell her Sterling was right? She didn't need him to be another condescending bastard. She needed him to be… a friend.

"You learned what it means to be a member of a team," he smiled at her reaction. He didn't even have the decency to look offended. He was thoroughly amused by her reaction.

"I knew what it meant to work well with others before," she growled indignantly, "This wasn't my first rodeo."

She started to walk away but he was suddenly pulling her right back into him. It was like their little dance was starting to become a literal one. He just absolutely refused to let her go.

"You didn't know what it was like to care," he called her out roughly. His tone even sounded just as childish as she felt. "Now you do. That's why you did it in the first place."

She narrowed her eyes at him again.

"What does that mean?" She demanded sharply, her voice a shrill shriek.

"I'm not sure," he admitted softly, "but I think it means you cared enough about us to finish the job and come back. You also apologized to the others and they accepted it."

"I wasn't apologizing!" She argued immediately.

He smiled at her and pulled her into a hug. She accepted it without complaint, though there were odd thoughts about the boyfriend currently waiting for her at his office. (They had a date.) She didn't understand it at the time but those thoughts were there because of the way Nate was holding her, as if she was a highly precious piece of art. Her alarm went off to remind her of her plans.

"Ooh," she jumped away from him instantly, "I've got to go but since you're here. I'm in a play and Saturday is opening night. You'll come won't you?"

He stared at her in complete shock as she pulled away. He looked torn for some reason. It was as though he was trying to think of a way out of it.

"It's seven o'clock at the theatre on East Elm," she replied already crossing the street carefully, "It'll be great. You'll love it. Bye."

And that was how Sophie Devereaux had successfully conned Nathan Ford into reuniting with their team and become a thief.

%

"Sophie."

The voice calling to the grifter was enough of a shock to snap her out of her delightful dream of freedom. There was a gentle hand pushing hair away from her forehead and big, bright amber eyes staring into her own. Of all the people to break into her new bedroom, Alec Hardison was the most unexpected. He smiled brightly when he realized she was finally awake.

"Come on," he said, nodding to the open window, "I'm here to rescue you."

The grifter sat up at the hacker's fearless suggestion. She felt dozens of emotions pump through her heart at the tender way he spoke about freedom. She felt tears prickle her eyes because she really wanted to take him up on his sweet offer.

"Where's your com?" She mouthed to keep her father from hearing their little conversation.

The hacker pointed to his right ear with confusion in his features. The grifter wrapped him in arms, giving him the biggest hug she could. She even enjoyed it a little bit while the hacker cautiously returned the squeeze. He was trying his hardest not to enjoy it. Sophie waited until he finally gave in and melted with the hug before she whispered into the com-filled ear.

"Nate," she said, squeezing the hacker tightly to make certain he didn't move as she spoke, "You need to leave."

"We're not leaving," Hardison argued automatically. Then he paused at whatever information was being explained to him.

"Don't argue," Sophie ordered briskly because she knew the three she couldn't see were doing just that, "I know what I'm doing. Nate, I still care about you."

She paused as a giant ball of emotion enveloped in her throat. Bile and fear were trying to spew past her lips so she had to fight it back before she could finish. Hardison kindly pat her on the back just to make certain she was fine. Apparently she wasn't conning them properly.

"I just don't love you," she cried, tears coming to her eyes at her delivery.

The hacker froze in place at what she said. She could feel his breath catch and knew his face was frowning in hopes of understanding. She pulled back and watched confusion flicker around in the hacker's beautiful amber eyes. Her fingers itched to smooth away the frown on his face like she usually did. She wanted nothing more than to provide him with the comfort he so desperately needed. But that was Parker's job now. It had to be.

"Go," she ordered as gently as she dared under the circumstances, "I'm where I belong."

"No," Hardison shook his head at the order. Tears were already developing in his eyes and looked horrified by what she was saying. He even pulled on her arm to get her to go with him.

"You belong with us," he cried, "We're a team. We need you."

"Go or I will scream," she said softly.

The hacker shook his head and frantically tugged on her arm. He pulled harder when he realized she was serious. Pain was written all over his features as he pulled her harder.

"Please," he begged.

The grifter refused to allow her own tears to fall. Instead she took a great, deep breath and let it go. She screamed as loud as she could with all her might. Hardison immediately tried to hush her by placing his hand over her mouth. She hit him on the chest and struggled against his extremely long arms. She pushed him as hard as she could and watched as the hacker fell on the ground in shock and misery.

"What the-" Her father called from somewhere nearby.

The hacker's eyes grew wide with fear. He got up to tug the grifter again but her father had other plans. He fired off a shot towards the hacker and just barely missed the young man. Hardison stumbled out of the window in fear of what just happened. He didn't even notice the red spot on his right shoulder.

The grifter almost went into a panic at the sight of blood on her floor. Then she remembered that the hacker wouldn't be able to leave if he was injured enough to die. Her father raced towards the door and fired off a few more shots. He cursed in disgruntlement which blessedly meant he missed. He continued to mutter curse words as he grabbed his loyal daughter by the hair and dragged her out of the room.

Sophie yelped in pain and automatically found the ceiling. Her eyes stared at the sight above her in complete awe and fright. Parker was in the rafters staring down at her like a frozen panther. Her blue-grey eyes were colossal orbs as she stared at the grifter being pulled by her own father. Then those eyes filled with anger and disgust. The blonde thief quickly raced out of the now empty room, making absolutely no sound, as she raced to follow the hacker and meet with her team.

"How did they find us?" Her father demanded in his super angry voice.

She flinched at the rasp of it. Then she shook her head because she couldn't figure it out any more than he could. She squealed involuntarily when his left foot went into the air. She was expecting it to kick her in the stomach like it used to. But this time she rolled out of the way because she couldn't really afford to be kicked at the moment. Her father actually looked at her like she was crazy when he stepped down on top of a bug that was probably planted by the thief.

"Shoes," Sophie gasped in absolute horror of what she just figured out, "They bugged my shoes. That has to be the way."

Her father nodded and reached his hand out. She flinched at it despite the "friendly" look he gave her. His eyebrows furrowed at her and she quickly blamed the fact that she woke up to a man in her face. He nodded and helped her to her feet. It was probably the first time in a long time that his hands were used to help instead of hurt. Her head buzzed with the information but she couldn't comprehend it. They were on a flight out of town almost instantly afterwards. She was wearing a brand new pair of shoes, and clothes, so was he. They were taking no chances.

%

It was the night Hardison had almost died. Nobody could bring themselves to actually leave Nate's apartment. The hacker wasn't even typing away on his computer to fake the normalcy. He was just sitting at the kitchen table and watching everybody as if he would never see them again.

The grifter knew what he was doing. She felt the same impulse he did actually. Her eyes couldn't help but dart around the apartment every five seconds just to make certain everybody was still there, alive and breathing. She had a near panic attack when the hitter announced that he was going out to buy a few ingredients. Thankfully Parker beat her to the punch by proposing Chinese. Then the thief appeared without any warning and Nate had to physically restrain her to keep her from organizing a search party. Hardison had volunteered to go look for her and she almost vetoed that until Eliot left to collect their order.

"I'll be right back, I promise," the hacker told her with a smile that couldn't even reach his eyes, "I just have to tell her thanks."

Sophie reluctantly nodded at his silent plea and immediately regretted the action when he was no longer in her sights. She had to use all of her grifter training on herself to convince herself they were coming back and not bleeding out in a ditch somewhere to never be heard from again.

"Stop worrying," Nate ordered of her after her sixth or seventh round of pacing the table, "They'll be right back. They're not going to get into any trouble right now."

"I know that," she spit back towards him spitefully.

Then she scowled at him for good measure and sat down in her usual spot. The mastermind was suddenly right there beside her, rubbing her hand in soothing circles in an attempt to calm her down. All it did was make the ache in her heart grow because it had been a full five minutes since the hacker left and she couldn't quite remember how to breathe.

When the hacker finally reappeared through the door, after a solid ten minutes and thirty-two pint six seconds, she raced from her chair and wrapped him in a hug. Hardison didn't even fight her as he returned it. She waited the appropriate amount of time for a hug to last before she walked away as if nothing happened. Soon Parker joined them from her usual entrance in the window. Sophie pulled the girl into the chair beside her and just squeezed her hand gently. The thief even leaned into the touch and made no comment on the grifter's insistence. Eliot brought the food in immediately after and placed the food directly on the table. He locked eyes with the grifter for a solid six point eight seconds before he went to collect the dishes from the cupboards. He didn't even growl when the thief and hacker volunteered to help.

Dinner was consumed in quiet. Though the mastermind did try his best to get everybody to speak at least once, nobody could bring themselves to say anything. They were all too busy absorbing how close they came to losing one of their own. The fear and hostility in the room just refused to go away. Nobody wanted to say good-bye, but it had to be done in order for them to move on.

"Well," the hitter sighed as he stood to his feet and grabbed his coat, "I'm out. I've got a mighty fine date tomorrow morning and I have some chores I've got to take care of to do it. See you guys later."

"Yeah," the hacker nodded at the hitter's statement, "I should probably go too. I've got to make sure Juan and his friends end up in cells with a few people who aren't fans of the Mexican Cartel. I'll see ya'll tomorrow."

"I'll go too," Parker called already reaching the hacker's side without a push.

"But we haven't had dessert yet," the grifter complained immediately. For some reason she was taking the whole leaving thing pretty difficultly. She wasn't sure why. She was used to people leaving, had left several people herself. For some reason she wanted them to stay a little longer.

"I'm not really up for dessert," the hitter explained with a gentle smile. Then he was gone before Sophie could even think of another thing to say.

"I've got to tuck Bunny in," Parker said softly, "Bunny gets scared when she wakes up without me. I promise I will come back tomorrow."

Then she gave Hardison's arm a quick squeeze before she raced through the door. Hardison stared after her in a complete haze. The grifter rushed towards him and gave him another squeeze while he was distracted. She didn't know why but she couldn't let him go. Well, she knew why but she didn't know she could ever feel that way.

"I promise I'll be here tomorrow," the hacker whispered into her ear, "I'll even send you a text to let you know I got home safely."

"Can't you just stay here?" She bargained immediately. She hated herself for sounding so weak and needy, but this was Hardison and he almost died. She just couldn't help it.

"Soph," Nate called towards her softly. When he had gotten right behind her she had no idea but she could feel his hands on her back. "Let him go."

"No!" the grifter wanted to scream at the top of her voice. She just wanted to cling to him and never let him go. She felt like an overbearing mother at the way she refused to release the hacker from her grasp. But Nate was right. She had to let him go.

"Okay," she said instead, stepping back as she spoke.

Hardison gave her one of his charming smiles and winked towards her. Then he too was out of the door without another word.

Sophie turned towards the mastermind with a look of scorn on her features. She wanted to hit him for pushing the hacker away. Mentally, she knew he was right in telling her to let the hacker go. She knew she needed to get used to him leaving and sooner was much better than later. But it still didn't change the fact that she just let her baby (babies, she corrects without a pause) go home all by himself after a traumatic experience. Oh!

"They'll be fine, Soph," he smiled towards her being a comforting gentlemen in ways she never thought possible, "They've survived without us for years. They can survive another night."

"But he almost didn't get another night," she argued immediately.

"But he didn't," he chimed pulling her into a tight embrace and holding on for dear life. Then his tongue was suddenly pressing into her mouth.

It was in that moment that Sophie Devereaux realized two things. The first was something she already knew but refused to admit. Hardison, Parker and Eliot were hers to protect and she wasn't going to let anybody get away with hurting them unless she was already dead. The second was something she should have known long before that moment. Nate was just as scared as she was and needed her to be there for him as much as he was for her.

"We almost lost Hardison today," she hummed into his chest some time later in the middle of the night.

"I know, Soph," he said, "I know."

%

They were in Los Angeles when Sophie recognized the pattern her father was using. She couldn't decide if she was impressed by his audacity or horrified that he would choose such a risk.

"Are we going back to Portland?" She asked. She couldn't hide the slight dismay and fear in her voice.

"It's the last thing they would expect," he smiled at her dismay. There was even amusement blazing in his eyes.

"How long are we going to be here?" She demanded curiously, hoping he wasn't going to get mad for her constant questioning.

"Don't you worry about that, Monkey," he replied his voice suddenly turning dark. His eyes were already flashing with anger. His patience with her was wearing thin. "I've got everything taken care of."

"Okay, Daddy," Sophie chimed right on cue. She made her way to the seat he specifically pointed to and calmly sat down. She picked up a couple of magazines she lifted from a store and started reading. She was going to be as obedient as possible.

"This guy who is following us," her father said, voice like a whip in the air, "What's so special about him? Why did you choose him?"

"_I didn't choose him,"_ she wanted to growl towards the man in disgust, _"He chose me."_

Instead, she looked towards her father to see what he was trying to get at. She wanted to scratch out his eyes at what she saw. It was a predatory glint that was shining in his eye and a Cheshire grin plastered on his face. He thought Nate was following them for payback. No, he thought he could beat him. He thought he could defeat the greatest mastermind for generations. He had no idea who he was dealing with, what lengths Nate would go to get the truth. Her father only saw an opponent in his way. If Nate continued to hunt, and she knew he would, her father was going to kill him.

"He's highly intelligent," she explained softly, "but his pride will be his downfall. Besides, turning an insurance cop into a criminal mastermind seemed too good not to pass on."

"You turned him?" Her father asked, a hint of pride in his tone, "Impressive."

"I know," she said smiling all the while. She sent a quick text to her contact in town. Everything was all set. Her package would be delivered into the airport bathroom of Portland International. So she chugged down her current bottle of water and watched her father snuck a sip from his flask. She smiled as her plan finished forming within her mind.

The poison would go perfectly in his scotch.


	5. Infuriating Memmories

She and William had been married for a year and a half. Sophie had never been happier. Her father's demands were only to run away every few months and commit a good score. Most of the jobs didn't really need Sophie to be there every moment. Plus, her father experienced some nice treatments from William's family because he was the Duchess' father. (That's right, she was a Duchess now.) She had a husband who loved her and her father seemed to be turning for the better. At least, he wasn't drinking as much. Things looked like they were turning for the better.

Then things changed.

Sophie was highly nervous because she had called her father away from a very important reconnaissance mission to discuss their con on William. Hopefully he would understand.

She nearly screamed when he opened the door. Then he clapped his hands excitedly and was grinning ear to ear. She knew that look. He had the perfect con for them to perform.

"I've got it, Monkey," he cheered, "It's the perfect plan. You're going to get William to have an affair. During your divorce settlement you'll demand to keep the title and all of its benefits. Then we'll take him for half of his estate and all that entitles as well. We'll be rich, Monkey. It's the big score!"

"Why?" She demanded pathetically, (her first mistake.)

"It's what we've always wanted, Monkey," he replied.

"No, it's what you've always wanted," she argued, (her second mistake,) "I have never wanted any of this."

"Of course you have," he shook his head in confusion, "You've worked your whole life for this. Why else would you work so hard to learn everything I taught you when you were younger?"

"I didn't do it because I wanted to," she replied, "I did it for you! I did it because I thought it would make you love me."

She watched her father's face fall at what she said. She stupidly fell for his con, thinking he was shocked that she actually thought that. (No, he was just biding his time.)

"But you don't love me," she hollered, "You never have and you never will. I was better off when Mum was alive but I was too young and stupid to know it. You've never considered my opinion in any of your plans!"

"I can do that," he defended boldly, cunningly, "I'll let you plan our next con!"

"I don't want to con anymore!" She said, "I'm done. I'm out. This is where I draw the line. As of right now my life is my own. You can either accept that or leave but I'm staying."

"Sweetheart, it's just a con," he said.

"I'm pregnant!" (Her third mistake.)

%

Sophie knelt over the toilet and prayed her father was nowhere near. Tears were spilling from her eyes. Her throat felt on fire and her stomach wasn't any better. Her whole body was in turmoil over what was happening. She couldn't do it anymore. She just wanted to give up and run away with Nate and never look back. But her father had found her once, he would find her again. He always would.

She was a fool to ever think she could be free of him. She should have listened when he told her to never fall in love. None of this would have happened. She would have still been under her father's rule, or dead. She would probably be dead by now. Then Nate would still be a bigger drunk than he already was, or dead just like her. They never would have met, that's for certain. Of course, the grifter was still confused on whether or not she liked that idea.

The mastermind had changed her in ways she hadn't even known were possible. She couldn't go back to her old life. Of that she was positive. Hurting people just wasn't right anymore. She could barely even stomach the idea of lying to her team. How was she supposed to ruin innocent people's lives now? Maybe she could con herself into believing they were bad. Yeah, she could pretend they earned their money by stepping on others and covering up murders. They were rich, it was probably true. Except it wasn't. William had taught her that some people earned their riches by just means. He had also taught that those born with money used it to help out those who weren't. All rich men weren't evil, just a few, even if it seemed like most.

Nate wasn't evil, not really. He was a self-righteous bastard but not evil. In fact, and the team probably didn't even know this (probably,) he was actually very charming and sweet. On days when Parker wasn't feeling well, the mastermind would sneak off and find her some fuzzy animal to make her feel better. The thief often thought it was the hacker until he would shake his head. Then she would grab the grifter and squeeze her tight in gratitude. She would deny it, of course, but the mastermind would "bust" her on her modesty. Eventually Sophie had learned to just give up and let him do it. Nobody believed her anyway, not even Eliot.

That wasn't all the mastermind did, either. He would always make certain the hacker's drawer of "food" was stocked full. He would even clean up around him when Hardison, much too often, fell asleep at his laptop's side. He would grumble about the mess and make a big show when the hacker awoke. But Hardison never complained about crumbs being embedded in his skin. He would complain about Sophie turning off his alarm so he could actually get some rest, but never about being uncomfortable after his rest. He probably assumed Sophie was the one to buy him the pillow and place it under his head. Of course, Nate never mentioned the blanket she did buy so it was only fair she kept his secret as well.

The hitter was the one Nate had the hardest time tricking. Mainly because Eliot always asked why his medicine and spice cabinets were always full. He would growl and explain, in a list of at least ten things, that he was not a baby and would not be coddled. The mastermind would turn it around and blame Sophie because she had a weird maternal streak with Parker and Hardison so it made sense that it would also include Eliot too. Then the hitter would immediately apologize for his rude behavior and continue as if nothing happened. Sophie, already being mighty sick of being blamed for everything, would open her mouth to bust the man responsible. Then the bastard would distract her by asking for a bite of the food in which case Eliot would stuff her mouth with food and ignore the mastermind altogether. Eventually, her palette would be reinforced with flavor until Nate was in the clear. Maybe they had been working against her together all this time.

Sophie quickly turned the faucet and washed her face of tears. She grabbed a cup and rinsed the horrid bile taste from her mouth. Then she made the mistake of looking into the mirror. She groaned at the way she looked. There were deep, dark purple spots below her eyes. Her cheeks were starting to puff and her eyes themselves were red and swollen. Wrinkles were beginning to appear on her forehead and the sides of her eyes. Her skin looked a little grey too and her hair lacked its usual luster. She looked sickly as if she was dying of some stupid disease. Under the circumstances she was highly surprised she didn't look in worse condition.

%

Sophie forgot who she was once. (Well, technically twice but this time wasn't figurative, it was literal.) She still couldn't remember what happened. Hardison told her the story several times, with Parker's assistance, and she still wasn't exactly sure how it happened. But she does remember the not knowing.

She awoke with a giant headache and every muscle in her body complaining in some fashion. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt like cotton. She turned to her side and noticed some strange man lying at her side. He had thick black curls pouring from his hair and a little bit of a five o'clock shadow developing on his chin. He was clinging to her hand like life depended on it so he must be a boyfriend, right? (Later she would laugh at the fact that that was her first thought about Nate when she woke up. When she told him he had smiled so big and for so long that Parker actually thought he was dying. Of course, the mastermind wouldn't explain so Parker roped Eliot into examining him. The hitter was astounded that Nate could be happy.)

She didn't really have time to focus on her thoughts. The strange man clinging to her arm woke up in a sudden flash of panic. He looked all around the room in one swift movement for any danger. Then his eyes landed on her and it was as if the world was right again. He smiled at the sight of her and the grifter had to do everything she could to keep up appearances.

"Hey," she said.

"Soph," he breathed out in relief. Okay, so her name was Sophie or Sophia that was a start.

"Sophie, you're awake," he continued in astonishment, "How are you? Do you feel alright?"

"My head aches," she cried, her British accent sticking out a little bit more than she wanted it to. But she thought he wouldn't believe anything but the truth.

"Is that all?" He demanded softly, "because if not I can get Eliot to give you some more morphine."

Eliot, she thought very carefully, there's somebody named Eliot who is apparently very important to us.

"I'm fine," she lied.

He narrowed his eyes and for a moment she thought there was suspicion in his gaze.

"You're lying," he said and she sighed in relief, "I'll get you some more morphine."

"No, I'm fine," she replied softy, kind of stunned that he could tell she was lying. She was going to have to be more careful around him. "My head just hurts and I'm very thirsty."

He nodded his head as if that solved everything. He grabbed a pitcher of water and, hands shaking violently, poured her a glass. He handed over the glass, complete with straw, and returned roughly in his chair.

She watched him with curious eyes before she sipped at the wonderfully cool drink. Then she allowed her curiosity to grow.

"What's wrong with your hands?" She asked.

He stared at her in confusion for a few moments before looking down at said hands. They were indeed still shaking. He balled them into fists to keep them at bay, but they seemed to have minds of their own.

"I don't know," he said, looking up at her desperately, "Care to make a wager?"

"You're an alcoholic," she guessed softly.

He sighed in relief of her answer. Then he shook his head and flashed her a view of the flask in his pocket. Judging by the sound of it, it was almost empty. But he didn't quite smell like alcohol, he smelled like coffee and wood.

"Sophie, what is my name?" He demanded suddenly grabbing her arms and staring her directly in the eyes, "I know it's stupid but I need you to tell me my full name. Can you do that?"

She shook her head full well knowing she couldn't. She even opened her mouth to make a very good guess. Then he pulled back and suddenly shook his head.

"Eliot," he said staring at her intensely, judging her reaction to the name very carefully, "What is his job on the team? Better yet, who else is on our team?"

She stared at him, completely horrified that he could read her enough to know something was wrong.

"I know who you are, T-N-Nate," she guessed based solely on his reaction to her pronunciation. She had forgotten how difficult cold reading was after a head injury.

"No, you don't," he shook his head in argument, "If you did you would have already told me everything I needed to know."

What did he mean by that? She had no idea. She was still trying to figure out if she was safe or not. Judging by his reaction to her lack of reply, she was going with minimal threat. Then the door opened revealing a long haired man with giant muscles cascading his entire body. She decided to make another gasp because the man staring at her was doing with utter fear and despair.

"Eliot, you're a hitter," she chimed with a smile on her face.

The man, slightly younger than Nate obviously named Eliot, looked at her in interest for a solid six seconds. Then he turned to the mastermind with a scowl appearing on his face.

"Didn't Parker and Hardison order you to inform them when she was awake?" He growled towards the mastermind and it was such a familiar sound the grifter didn't even react to it, "I just got them to leave and get some sleep. Now I have to call them back and tell them she's awake and smiling and acting like her normal self. Dammit Nate!"

And then he was gone as if he never interrupted their exchange to begin with. The grifter looked towards the mastermind carefully. He was staring back at her with wide, worried eyes. She thought he was afraid of the others finding out that she didn't remember anything. Then he spoke and shot that theory out the window.

"I forgot how good you are at reading people," he laughed nervously, "What else did you glean from our residential hitter?"

She had the lie already formed on her lips. But something about the way he looked at her told her not to bother. So she just shrugged and pointed to the vanished hitter.

"There are a couple of strands of blonde hair on this side of the bed," she said pointing to her left in wonder, "Hardison and Parker must be the youngest because he talked about them with nothing but pure affection as big brothers do. He suspects something is up but he thinks you're just telling me I scared you and how much you love me. He doesn't realize I've got amnesia but he will as soon as Parker and Hardison get here because I'm pretty certain my theory on them is wrong."

"What theory would that be?" Nate pressed softly, he wasn't even fighting her at her word.

"That Hardison and Parker have a thing and one of them is a girl," she said, "I'm guessing the blonde one."

"Correct," he nodded, "Can you figure out anything else?"

She took a guess.

"You're either my boyfriend or best friend who is secretly in love with me," she replied softly.

Nate stared at her in shock. Confusion even flittered across his features as he tried to comprehend what she was telling him. He looked completely caught off-guard by her words.

"Why do you say that?" He demanded harshly, his cheeks coloring red before he could even stop himself.

"The way you look at me," she shrugged, "I've seen that one before. My husband wore that look whenever I entered the room. Most men look at me in lust but he looked at me in wonder. You have that same look of wonder and I've seen the look of love on enough men to recognize it. You're in love with me."

He choked on air and swallowed thickly under her scrutiny. Then his eyes looked away from hers. He was suddenly embarrassed and acting as if he was caught in wrong doing.

"We… uh, we better get you up to date so you can fool the others into thinking you remember," he coughed softly, avoiding the statement in a way that fell frustratingly familiar.

"What are we going to do about my memory?" she asked softly.

"We'll wait until later," he decided, "See if it's just temporary. You only just woke up. Your mind could just be resetting itself after the explosion."

"Explosion?" She gasped, "I was in an explosion and all I got out of it was a head injury! How did that happen?"

"Parker is our thief," he informed her instead. (She had already established he was a stubborn, infuriating bastard by this point.) "Hardison is our hacker. Eliot likes to cook, Hardison overdoses on orange soda and Parker will probably inform you of some plan that involves you not being in an explosion anymore."

"What do they look like?" She asked because she didn't really know what to do in this situation. He apparently trusted her even though she was a grifter. They seemed to have been a team for a very long time. He just seemed to be avoiding her statement for some stupid reason.

"Parker's blonde and Hardison's our only black member," Nate replied, "You'll figure the rest out as we go."

"You hope seeing them will help me to remember," she realized in a gasp. And seriously, when did she start gasping?

"That obvious?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. Apparently he was highly impressed with her reading skills. She didn't get it. If he knew she was a grifter why would it be so surprising.

Before either one of them could talk further a tiny blonde with bright blue-grey eyes appeared in the window. She flipped through it and raced towards the grifter with arms open wide. She pulled the grifter into a tight embrace and squeezed tighter out of joy.

"You're alive!" Parker cheered, "Eliot said you wouldn't wake up for at least another day! I told him he was wrong but nobody ever listens to me!"

"How long was I out?" She demanded irritably, giving the mastermind the biggest glare she could come up with.

"A whole nine hours," Parker chirped. Then she suddenly moved so she was staring the grifter directly in the face.

"Do you know who I am?" She asked.

The grifter smiled at her and even allowed a chuckle to escape her lips.

"Of course I know who you are, Parker," she said, "How could I forget you?"

The thief nodded her head in joy and smothered her in another hug. She seemed to take the statement as fact and didn't care about anything else, least of all other injuries.

"Parker, let her go," Eliot ordered from the door, "She can't handle your craziness right now. Her body is still healing."

The thief jumped back with horror on her features. She looked between the hitter and the grifter as if she committed murder. Then she turned back towards the grifter with big, sad eyes.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" She asked.

The grifter shook her head and winced in pain of the motion. She mentally told herself not to do that again and smiled at the thief.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Good because we need to have a serious talk about you getting caught in the middle of an explosion to save other team members," another voice announced from the doorway.

The young man was indeed black but he was also very tall and very skinny. The grifter had the sudden urge to yell at him for not eating enough. Then she strangely wanted to explain to the hitter that the hacker needed his best lasagna as treatment. She swallowed down the impulse thought because everybody was giving her worried faces.

"As long as it doesn't involve a power-point presentation and rules I should be fine," she replied. Then she looked straight into the young man's amber eyes and smiled. "I'm fine, Hardison. You can stop worrying now."

The hacker sputtered a bit. He looked like he wanted to argue with her too. But he just held his tongue and nodded his head. That was when the grifter noticed the lines under his eyes. She looked towards the thief and noticed she had matching dark spots too. A great big wave of worry and guilt washed over her. (She didn't even know she could feel guilt.) Then anger climbed in to join the party.

"Go to bed, all of you," she ordered briskly, "You could have just as easily waited until tomorrow morning to come check up on me. Now, quit ignoring yourselves and get some sleep or I will personally take each of you shopping individually."

Hardison and Parker had the decency to look guilty at her admonishment. She ignored Nate's amusement because she knew instinctively if nothing else that he would never obey that command. Eliot started looking dodgy and clapped his hands together.

"Alright," he said, "You heard her. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'm going to stay and make sure she and Nate eat so go on. Get out of here."

Parker gave her another squeeze and raced out of the door. Hardison closed the window and immediately followed after her, (Yep, definitely something going between them.) The hitter nodded towards the mastermind, gave the grifter a suspicious look and left the room without another word.

"Well that went brilliantly," she smiled at her accomplishment, "I think they bought it."

"Eliot might suspect but he's not going to say anything until I start to get worried," Nate shrugged in reply.

"You're already worried," she said, calling him out because she was pretty certain it was her job to do so.

He stared at her for a few minutes. He wasn't showing any emotion at all, just staring. It was as if he was trying to figure out how her mind worked. He was probably even trying to figure out why she was so calm given her situation. She was trying to figure the same thing out. For some reason she felt protected with his watchful gaze over her. It must have been painful for him, looking into the eyes of the woman he loved and seeing nothing but confusion in her eyes. She had no idea who he was and he was just sitting there staring at her with no accusation or emotion of any kind. He was closing her out.

She blinked as the realization came upon her. Then she gave him a closer inspection and was surprised to see her findings were right on the mark. He was emotionally shutting down around her. Sure he wasn't blubbering like a big baby, that wasn't his style. He was just closing off his heart and pretending it was never open to her in the first place. She suddenly felt anger and betrayal in the pit of her stomach at that. He had no right to close her out of his life, even if she didn't remember him. She had every right to be in his life whether he wanted to admit it or not.

She slapped him for it.

He blinked at her in surprise. Anger was starting to appear on his features and it was so nice to see compared to the blankness of before. Suddenly the anger collapsed into sadness on his features and he looked away. It was as if he was ashamed for being angry with her.

"It's okay to be upset by this," she chimed in right on cue. She was never one to just leave things well enough alone. "It's okay to be scared too."

"And what emotions do you show in front of a perfect stranger?" He hissed at her, using anger as the perfect disguise. Somehow she knew he loved to block her with it. She was okay with that, for now.

"Right now I'm showing him nothing but trust," she admitted softly. She was surprised she could still be honest. Mentally she was yelling at herself for it. But this man clearly loved her. She knew he would do everything in his power to protect her. The question was if she conned him into it or not. Deep down she didn't think so. (Later she would still doubt that feeling but then she would find Nate's eyes and her heart would swoon for no reason and she would realize she was wrong.)

"Don't you dare," he growled towards her, "Don't con me, Sophie."

"No, don't you con me," she hissed right back, "You're upset because I called you out. Because I know that you're…"

"Don't say it," he begged suddenly desperate and shaking his head, "Please don't say it."

"Why is it so bad?" She asked, her voice suddenly soft and filled self-pity. Was she really not worthy of being loved? He seemed to think so.

"If you remembered you would know," he replied angrily as if he was trying to convince her that it was her fault for this mess. It could have been, she didn't remember.

"Low blow," she sighed crossing her arms and pouting at his need for self-preservation.

They lapsed into angry silence, both silently planning the other's demise. The grifter could feel the mastermind's eyes on her though. He was never looking away and continued his staring with renewed interest. She could feel his eyes carefully overlooking her profile. She thought he was already planning on taking a taste of her skin until his eyebrow wavered. Then she realized he was counting her breaths. (She childishly confirmed this theory by speeding up her breathing and slowing it down. He scowled at her when he figured out what she was doing.) But his gaze never wavered. He was just cataloging everything about her. Probably to use for the self-blame once she was all better and he could go back to moping in self-pity.

"My son," he explained in a voice almost softer than a whisper, "When my son died-"

"Sam," she nodded in understanding.

A light flickered in his eyes as she spoke his son's name. He stared at her calculatingly and nodded his head.

"That wasn't your fault," she said with more certainty than she actually felt. She didn't know how she knew his son's name but she knew he blamed himself. For all she knew it was his fault, but he needed to hear that it wasn't. Even if he didn't believe it.

"How would you know?" He hissed towards her, his voice once again a whip to her ears, "You don't even remember how we met. How would you know if it wasn't my fault?"

"Because he was your son and I know you would do anything in your power to protect that boy with your own life," she growled right back. She knew it was the truth even before it came out of her lips. It was as though she instinctively knew everything about him but she couldn't mentally place it. It was frustrating to know somebody so well and still have no idea how she knew him.

"You're coming back to me," he sighed in relief, "You're starting to get that familiar glint back in your eyes."

"Stop changing the subject, Nate!" She yelled towards him in complete despair that he could do this to her even with a head injury. He was a selfish bastard and didn't even care to change it.

Before he could reply with his usual retort, the door opened. The hitter was holding a plate of something yellow and walking towards the grifter with a determined smile.

"I made your favorite," he said, his voice dripping with humor and deviousness, "Country Fried Steak."

Even before he finished saying the name, the grifter was clawing her way out of bed. Both men were so stunned by her agility that they didn't even catch her in time. She was racing as far away from the stubborn dish as possible. She was eyeing like the plague while Nate was staring at her in horror.

"Get back in the bed!" He hollered at her, "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I'd rather die than eat that," she hollered back, "Fried and Steak should never be in the title of a good food. Eliot Spencer, you get that away from me right now and make some proper food!"

"It is proper food," he growled towards her, dutifully removing the "evil" dish with a wide grin on his face, "A good portion of Americans would gladly die just to try one bite of my Country Fried Steak."

"I'm British," she countered immediately.

"Get back in the bed!" Nate growled at her. He was already physically holding her to keep her from further injury.

"Nate, tell him to make me some real food," she begged softly, "I'm not eating that."

"Dammit," Nate hissed, picking the grifter right on up off the floor before she could do anything else, "If you die from this I will on you back just to kill you myself."

"Liar," she replied with a crinkled nose at such proximity to the "evil" dish, "You think that stuff is just as disgusting as I do."

"Not when I make it," Eliot said in protest. He picked up the dish and headed out of the door with a few light chuckles. "I'll be back with some risotto in a few, Soph. I just had to be sure."

"I will get you back, Eliot," she called after him. Then she started feeling light-headed and allowed the mastermind to tuck her in without protest. He was grinning from ear to ear and that made her highly suspicious.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm glad you're back, Soph," he said, nuzzling her neck just because he could.

"Nate," she huffed to get his attention. Her voice had taken on that "we need to talk" tone the mastermind hated. She knew this but it had to be done.

"Eat your risotto," Eliot ordered before the discussion will be done.

Then he stood there with his arms firmly crossed to show that he wasn't leaving until it was gone. The grifter rolled her eyes at his silent statement but quickly did as told. She took note of the fact that the mastermind was munching on the horrid steak while Eliot was staring at them both expectantly. She only ended up eating half of the plate before exhaustion won out. The hitter didn't complain though. He just scooped up her dish and immediately left to take care of it. The mastermind, refusing to leave under penalty of death, dropped his dish on the nightstand and started climbing into bed with her.

"Nate, I'm not in the mood," she muttered already feeling sleep dragging her down, "I've only just woke up from a head injury and you're already trying to get in my skirt."

"No," he said, spooning into her as if it was something they did all the time. (At the time they had only just started spending the night at each other's apartments. Actually it was because of Hardison's near death experience that they even started it in the first place.)

She gladly allowed him to pull her into his chest, using his chest as a pillow was quite comfortable after all. She could feel him combing his fingers through her hair. It was highly relaxing but there was one order of important business they needed to take care of.

"Nate," she said, "You're in love with me."

"I know, Soph," he replied, kissing her on the top of her head and continuing his combing technique.

"But," she began.

"Rest, Soph," he said, "I love you. We'll discuss the rest in the morning."

"I love you too," she muttered in her half-sleep haze. She couldn't help the grin that was suddenly plastered on her face.

Suddenly the mastermind was out of bed and racing towards the door. She was about to make a comment on it, his fear of losing was really atrocious sometimes. But his next few words stopped her in her tracks.

"Eliot," he shouted through the door, "Will she die if I let her sleep?"

"No!" The hitter replied, sounding quite annoyed with the mastermind for some reason. Nate was probably a huge brat when she was out. "Just wake her up every now and then to make sure she's still breathing."

"Okay," Nate nodded. She didn't even need to see his head to know he was looking sheepish and nodding eagerly at the hitter's words. "Thank you, Eliot. Try to get some sleep while you're here. I know the couch isn't comfortable but you could at least try."

"You too," the hitter hummed in reply. There was a sound that was probably Eliot's finger flipping a page in a book.

Nate was back in the bed in seconds, holding her protectively against his chest. She hummed happily and fell asleep with him combing his fingers through her hair. Every time he forced her awake it was only to tell her how much he loved her and that he was glad she was alright. Eventually she just stopped listening and just started nodding until he let her go back to sleep. Eliot didn't even seem to mind them sharing a bed when he woke them for breakfast the next morning.


	6. Surprising Resolution

Sophie awoke to an abrupt slap on the face. Her eyes opened wide and she ended up staring into the eyes of her father's angry eyes. His whiskey bottle was in hand and he was glaring daggers into her soul. Something was wrong.

"Get up," he slurred, "Our plane leaves in two hours."

Sophie ignored the stinging in her cheek and nodded. That didn't seem to be fast enough for her father. He latched onto her hair and tugged her up. Tears sprung to her eyes but she swallowed the cry. Her father smelled of alcohol and his eyes looked glazed over with red. She wasn't going to argue with him. She just climbed out of the bed and got dress in one swift motion. Her father was at least aware enough to turn around while she changed. That was a bonus.

He was pulling her arm through security swiftly, as if their time frame had originally been far much longer than it was now. Some of the guards were giving her strange looks, as if they pitied her. She didn't understand why. She had covered up the handprint on her face quite nicely.

Of course, the flight attendants on the plane didn't seem all too convinced either. Maybe it was something she was doing. She had only been ripped out of a perfect dream. (Nate had taken her to Cancun for a lovely weekend between the two of them. They never left the hotel and he cooked her whatever she fancied. He was just about to tell her where he wanted to get married when her father interfered. She missed the safety of the mastermind's arms.)

"You've got your mother's smile. Use it," Daddy whispered into her ear, "You look like you're about to kill somebody. Relax, we're almost free."

_Free_, Sophie thought scornfully, _if only._

She smiled and waved them over to ask them a few questions about their recommendations for things to do at their destination. The attendant smiled and explained that Portland was full of restaurants for even the pickiest palette. She even mentioned Hardison's (Eliot's) brewpub and Sophie giggled uncontrollably at the mention of the delicious new flavor, The Mrs. Ford. (Apparently that was the flight attendant's favorite drink. Sophie didn't have the heart to say she was the one it was named after. It was modeled after her favorite wine.)

The attendant well taken care of, her father patted her on the head and ordered an orange juice with vodka. The smell reminded her so much of Nate that she didn't even mind the fact that her father was chugging it down like a lifeline. She just closed her eyes and pretended it was the mastermind sitting by her side. (Except she didn't dare let herself sleep on her father's shoulder. That man would wring her neck again.)

They were in Portland in moments and moving into their "new" home before anybody would even have time to think about it. Poor Hardison was probably working overtime to find her. Parker was probably refusing to talk and quietly hating her for not telling them the real reason she was with her father. Eliot was deciding between helping her and killing her. (Leaning heavily towards the killing her most likely.) Nate was the one suffering most. He was trying to decipher her words and see if she meant them or not. She hoped he didn't believe her. She wished that he did so she wouldn't have to worry about losing him or their teammates. (She knew either way he was still chasing. It was their way.)

%%%%%%

Sophie opened her eyes as carefully as possible. Every inch of her body was in pain and she panicked as she tried to remember what happened. A nurse came into view, pumping something into her I.V. She was in a hospital and couldn't remember why. Then the drugs started to take effect and she slipped back into the darkness.

The next time her eyes opened she recognized the ceiling above. She was still in London, thank goodness. The hospital lights were glaring into her eyes though. Her head was also pounding. Her throat felt like parchment and she couldn't feel certain parts of her body. The rest of her parts were burning. The medicine wasn't working. That had to be it.

Now, why was she there?

It had something to do with her father. Of that she was sure. She had been speaking with him about something, William maybe? Yes, they had been discussing William. She had been really nervous and he had been really mad. He was yelling at her about something. She did something wrong.

"How are you feeling?" The nurse asked her in a very sweet voice.

The grifter tried to smile at her but only managed to grimace. Tears were pouring down her eyes and every inch of her body hurt despite the amount of times she clicked on the morphine drip. Her right arm was burning and her left big toe didn't feel attached. But there was something else though. It was the most important thing in the world.

"I'm fine," she lied to the nurse. Her voice sounded like sandpaper to her own ears.

The nurse didn't seem satisfied but she nodded her head anyway. There was a glint of pity in her eyes, as though she knew something the grifter didn't. Of course, she was the nurse so she probably knew a whole heck of a lot that the grifter didn't at the moment. She was still working on regaining her memory and everything.

"Would you like a glass of water?" The nurse asked softly, talking to her as if she were a child.

Sophie would be insulted if she didn't enjoy the treatment. Plus it gave her time to think and she needed to think. She was forgetting something very important and if she didn't remember it soon she was going to go crazy.

"Please," she begged.

The nurse nodded her head. And left to fetch the water.

Sophie's brow furrowed at the nurse's quick departure. An image of her father's fist aiming her way. That wasn't something unusual so she didn't think anything of it. Instead she focused on the empty feeling in her heart. Her stomach was twisting and knotting and making her feel worse than she already felt. Her body knew something was missing. Maybe it was the fact that her entire left foot wasn't working. Maybe it was the fact that her right arm felt like a burning jelly that was most definitely broken in at least three places. Or maybe it was the fact that her father almost beat her to death because she told him she was happy.

And she had been pregnant!

%%%%%

When Sophie finally awoke for the morning there were three men located at each and every one of the doors. She saw at least two men walking the grounds surrounding their safe-house. She learned there were quite a few more hired guns when they came barreling through the door. It took Sophie a while to realize they were holding Nathan Ford, Alec Hardison, a bloody Eliot Spencer and Parker in their grasp.

"What is this?" Sophie demanded at once, her voice going shrill with worry and alarm.

"We found the blonde scaling the wall just like you said," one of the guards said, pulling Parker's ponytail as he spoke. Thankfully, she wasn't stabbing him with a fork or anything. "The hacker was in the van and the goon had managed to take out our two best men before we took him down."

"The only reason they got him at all was because I ordered Eliot not to," Nate replied smoothly, cheeky grin in tow and eyes glued solely on the grifter he came for.

"This one," the guard poked the mastermind as he spoke, "didn't even put up a fight. He was just standing in front of the door with his hands in his pockets. Then he waved his hand when we arrived with the rest of his team like he planned it."

"That's because he did," her father said.

"Well I figured you were expecting us anyway," Nate explained with a sinister smile, "I didn't really see the point in hiding. We both know why I'm here."

"I warned you, Ford," her father growled towards the mastermind in disgust, "I'm her father. I'm going to protect her at all costs."

The mastermind laughed at that, coldly. His voice was dark with emotions and his eyes were swimming with uncontained violence. Even Eliot looked tame compared to him. Her father had absolutely no idea what kind of danger he was in. Of course, she didn't really care. She was more worried about the impending doom falling on the mastermind.

"Protect her," Nate laughed, "That's rich coming from you."

"Yeah," Hardison supplied just as humorlessly as his mentor, "Especially when you factor in the fact that you're about to lose."

"Big time," Eliot agreed.

"What do you have that gives you the upper-hand?" Her father asked in some mistaken idea that he was winning. He had yet to realize that the odds against them were only temporary.

"We've got the best grifter in history on our side," Parker growled. She even bent her head forward like a cat ready to strike. She was discreetly reaching for the Taser she always kept in her right-hand pocket. Her guards were too busy paying attention to the male threats to realize what kind of danger she actually was.

"She's my daughter," her father replied with a laugh at the thief's touching statement, "Her loyalty belongs to me and me alone."

"Is that why you were going to poison her?" Nate demanded his voice a harsh whip in the air. Even Parker flinched at the sound.

"What?" Her father gasped, "What are you talking about? I don't have any poison."

"Yeah," Parker hissed, holding up a bottle in demonstration, "Because I totally did not find this bottle of colchicine in your luggage when I broke into your hotel room."

"No," Nate smiled in angry amusement, "He's telling the truth, Parker. He had no idea about the poison until we mentioned it just now."

Sophie tensed at the mastermind's statement. She looked towards her father in fear of his next move. He slowly turned his powerful head her way and glared daggers at her. He even had the nerve to look betrayed, as if he wasn't expecting her to turn against him. If the odds were in her favor, she would actually be honest with him. But her family was still in danger; she had no choice but to lie.

"You can't be serious," she scowled towards him, "Clearly they're trying to turn us against each other."

"Nope," Parker replied with a shrug.

"Why would we set you up?" Hardison asked in dismay, "He's the one we don't want to keep. We like you, Sophie."

"Parker," Sophie sighed as she stared her father straight in the eye and carried on her con, "How many ounces of the poison are in that bottle?"

"Thirty-two," the thief replied excitedly. She knew she was helping, but the poor thing didn't realize it was to work against her. Oh well, she was still learning. You never stop really.

"That's enough to kill the both of us," Sophie nodded in agreement watching her father's reaction very carefully.

He seemed to find that an acceptable excuse. Nate, however, was staring at the grifter with wide eyes. Apparently he hadn't actually expected her to spin his con. She was working against his plan and he was trying his hardest to figure out why.

"But we didn't set you up," Parker said, staring at the grifter in complete confusion.

"Divide and concur?" Her father snarled.

His tone showed just how angry he was. Eliot and Parker automatically turned towards the guards with calculating eyes. Hardison was tapping away at his phone, figuring out and sending all of the angles of the playing field to the rest of the team. Nate was standing at the head of the group, relaxed and calm as always. He turned away from the grifter and instead glared at her father, hatred plainly in his every feature. His arms were crossed against his chest.

"No need," Nate replied softly, "You did the dividing yourself. I'm just here to ensure she's safe."

Her father's temper finally reached its peak. He shifted his weight and suddenly pulled out a gun. Everybody reacted at once. Her father's men whipped out their guns while Eliot, Hardison and Parker tried to fight their way out. Hardison ended up being tangled in between two men. Parker and Eliot were quietly baring their teeth at the amount of men who appeared out of nowhere. No marks were upon them but they definitely weren't happy with being encircled so heavily.

"You think I haven't heard about your team, Ford," her father called, "Did you honestly think I didn't do my research? I gave you a chance. You should have left when you had the chance."

"Are you going to shoot me in front of your daughter?" Nate asked softly his eyes never wavering from the old man's.

The caulk of the gun snapped.

%%%%%

Sophie sat on the plane, tears pouring from her eyes. She had only just discharged herself from the hospital when the police arrived. She had to pretend to be a nurse in order to escape. The doctors were probably reporting each and every injury the grifter acquired. And William, poor sweet innocent William was going to be blamed for her father's dirty work. She could already imagine the look of horror on his face when he discovered that she had been carrying his baby when she was beaten.

She just ruined him. This kind of scandal was certain to be a blemish on the Prentice name for years to come. Even if she did go back and explain that William had nothing to do with it, the damage would still be done. Nobody would be happy with a Duke whose wife was nearly beaten to death by her own father. The news of the dead child would be enough to force pity on the man.

Sophie ignored the curious flight attendants who kept trying to coax information out of her. She just let the tears flow and tried hard not to think about the happiness she was leaving behind. Her father was going to find out eventually. He would know she conned him into choosing another grifter over her. By then it would be too late.

She would be safe. She would be free to roam around the world at her own leisure. But she could never stop running, not really. He would always be looking. She couldn't use any of her old aliases. She could never use her real name again. No, she was doomed to never be herself. She couldn't stop running. The moment she did, he would find her.

And find her he did.

%%%%%%

"See!" Her father teased with a cheeky smile, "She hasn't even placed herself between you and the gun. She doesn't want you! Leave now or I shoot."

Nate ignored the man with the gun. Instead his gaze fell towards the grifter, eyes begging for information on where to go next. He was trying to figure out her game. He knew she had moved to stand between and stopped. He was just trying to figure out why.

"He didn't threaten our lives to get you to come," he said, staring into her soul.

"No," she nodded, wishing she could tell him how much she wanted to run, "I volunteered."

"You didn't volunteer," Nate growled back.

Then the mastermind turned towards her father with pure hatred once again enveloping his features. He stepped forward slightly and stared at the barrel of the gun.

"Shoot," he said.

"No!" Sophie shouted at the top of her lungs.

She gasped immediately after. It was a mistake. She knew it. She was supposed to be playing along and the moment her father threatened Nate, she couldn't.

"What do you mean no?" Her father demanded, his voice filled with rage and betrayal.

Sophie struggled for words that would best cover her error. Nothing was coming to mind immediately. Then several things were suddenly floating around her head. Lies that involved the mastermind being a federal agent that they couldn't kill if they wanted to be free. A tale of Eliot and Hardison being a duo of trained assassins who barked only when Nate told them to. An idea of Parker as a weapon that was pumped full of juices to make her impenetrable to pain and able to kill millions with nothing more than a single touch. Anything that wasn't the truth.

Then she had an idea, a fantastic and brilliant idea. She had already admitted that she turned Nate into a criminal. All she had to do was convince her father that he was still her weapon, her tool for disposing of enemies. Hardison, Eliot and Parker would play along. They would act betrayed at the news. Nate would even pretend to kill them and act like a well-trained robotic monkey. All she had to do was say she had him brain-washed and the world could theirs, forever.

The lie sprang to her lips instantly as her plan finally came to fruition.

"Daddy, I'm pregnant!"

The words that fell from her lips were not the ones she intended to say. She can tell by the look on Nate's face that he knew. He knew the words were true. Even Parker's usual, trust-worthy blank expression was no more. The blonde's nose was crinkled with a scowl on her lips. Hardison and Eliot at least had the decency to look confused. But it was where Nate's eyes were looking that truly frightened the grifter. He was staring at her father with cold eyes. Death was shimmering in those beautiful blue eyes. Nathan Ford was thinking about murder once again.

"You…" her father scowled, eyes as black as her own, "You wouldn't dare!"

Sophie stared at him with confusion. She was frozen in place under his gaze, just as she had been as a child.

"You wouldn't make the same mistake twice!" He yelled.

Parker bristled in the corner of her vision. Hardison and Eliot were suddenly eyeing the guns on their guards and calculating how long it would take to disarm them. Nate didn't make a sound or a move. His silence symbolized just how dangerous he was.

"What do you mean twice?" The mastermind asked.

The old man turned towards the mastermind with a snarl. He was dripping with venom and he hadn't even heard the rest of the good news yet. His black eyes were filled with hatred and scorn. He was going to do some damage.

"Who the hell are you to question me like that?" Her father yelled, "You're the bastard who just killed my daughter! I'm going to kill you."

"No, Daddy!" Sophie gasped, making the mistake of tugging on her father's arm to get him to stop.

Vomp!

The grifter's entire cheek ached with the pain. Tears sprang to her eyes and she nearly stumbled at the force of the blow. She automatically brought her hand up to her cheek just to make certain it was still there. Her vision was blurry and she was starting to feel nauseous. Then the world stopped spinning and everything was clear.

Nobody moved. Sophie's father was staring at her with wide eyes and everybody else was standing motionless. Hardison and Eliot were glaring daggers into the guards closest to them. Parker was carefully reaching for her Taser. Nate was seething with rage.

"You braced yourself," her father said.

Sophie stared at him in confusion. She didn't know what he was saying. The only thing she knew was that Nate was about to kill and that couldn't happen. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't.

"So," she said, shrugging as she spoke. She knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment she looked into his eyes. Her father's eyes glowed with red fire. He moved his arm for yet another swing and the grifter automatically closed her eyes in preparation of the flying.

That seemed to be the catalyst for action. A giant breeze past her nose forced the grifter's eyes to open again. Nate was suddenly on top of her father, punching his face in. There was blood flowing everywhere. Her father was trying to plant a few hits of his own and failing miserable. The mastermind's temper was too much to be contained.

Another scream forced the grifter's attention to turn. Parker had already knocked out all of her guards. She was helping Hardison with his by placing her Taser in some highly unusual places. Eliot was having a field day with the twenty other people in her father's enlisting. Nobody was available to stop the mastermind. They were all too busy enjoying the torture they were causing.

"You're going to die, you bastard!" Nate shouted. His hands were already wrapped around her father's neck and the old man was turning purple because of the lack of oxygen. Blood was still dripping from his nose and other facial features. He was about to die.

Sophie rushed towards them. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The mastermind immediately stopped at her touch. He turned towards her with betrayal and misunderstanding. He was staring at her with intense blue eyes, silently begging her to let him end it. He wanted to end her suffering. She was almost willing to allow it, almost.

"No," she said, pulling him to his feet as she spoke, "He can't hurt me anymore."

"You're wrong," the old man huffed, his breath heavy and blood still dripping, "Nothing's going to stop me. You're mine, Lara. You always have been and you always will be."

"No," Nate hissed, "She's mine."

Then he pulled the grifter into his side. Sophie immediately nuzzled into his neck. Her chest felt lighter than air. Her head was buzzing with happiness. She couldn't help the smile growing on her lips. She didn't even mind the pain on her cheek. She was going home.

"I'll stop that baby from being born," the old man promised, "You won't destroy her career."

The mastermind growled like a feral dog ready to kill. So Sophie decided to step forward and take the lead. Nate was kind enough to allow her.

"You beat William's child out of me," Sophie replied to absolute silence, "You will not do the same to this baby."

"Sophie," Parker squeaked in alarm. Apparently they were finished with their terror on the minions.

"Eliot," the grifter said, her eyes glued to her father, "I want him alive. I don't care how you do it. The others can help you however they want."

"Soph," Nate called softly.

"I'm going to go discuss my child with my fiancé also known as the baby's father," Sophie concluded softly, "and I will never think of you again."

And just like that, she grabbed Nate's hand and walked away. She didn't look back at her father. She could already hear the hitter cracking his knuckles in preparation of the fun. Parker was giving off a creepy crackle and even Hardison was joining her with some crazy laughter of his own. It was over. Her father had lost and her team had won. She was finally free.

The ride home was quiet and calm. Nate had opened the door for her, helped her into her seat and even kissed her on the bruised cheek before closing the door taking his place at the steering wheel. He put the car in drive and just took off at a semi-blinding speed. They were home in moments but that was where the calm ended.

Nate hadn't made any move to leave the vehicle and the grifter was enjoying being off her feet too much to care. Then the tension suddenly changed. The mastermind turned towards her and actually physically tried to touch her. He stopped before he could achieve his goal but this time it truly was the thought that counted. He opened his mouth and smacked his lips a few times to say something, say anything. But everything h wanted to say seemed to fail at getting past his lips.

"Did he… hurt you?" He asked. His voice sounded like sandpaper and his tone sent the message that he hated the way he phrased the question.

Sophie couldn't look at him right yet. She was still reeling from the events that transpired. Of course, his tone indicated he wasn't just talking about the obvious abuse. Everything depended on how she answered. He needed something for clarity of mind.

"Does it matter?" She asked instead surprising herself as much as him, "If I answer no you won't believe me but if I answer yes you won't stop picturing it and dwelling on your hatred for him. And I don't want that."

She paused at the sudden emotion enveloping her throat. It was starting to get harder to breathe. Maybe this wasn't the proper place to be having this discussion. But then again, they were never proper even when they first began.

"I want you to forget him," she finished softly.

Nate nodded his head as if in understanding. She could tell simply because the shadow he was casting moved a bit. It was enough for her to think that conversation was over at least.

"I just want to know the truth," he said and his voice sounded so defeated that she couldn't help but feel guilty with her answer.

She paused as she tried to think of the answer. She wanted him to know this was the truth and the only way she could do that was to give it thought. He deserved that.

"I don't know," she finally decided. In the peripheral of her vision she could see him open his mouth to argue so she raised her hand and turned towards him so he could see the truth. "I honestly don't know. There have been so many blackouts that I can't honestly tell you."

Nate nodded in understanding. He released a heavy sigh and just kept nodding. Sophie looked away because she couldn't stand the thoughts crossing his mind. She couldn't even stand the thoughts in her own mind. Memories of happy times just refused to appear before her. At least she finally got some revenge.

"The baby-" Nate said softly.

"It's real," she interrupted, "It wasn't a lie. I really am pregnant."

"I know," he smiled towards her, "I was just wondering how long you've known."

"Since before we went to Paris," she replied shamefully, "I didn't want you to know until after the first trimester."

"In case you lost the baby," the mastermind nodded, "You didn't want me to have to go through losing another child again."

"Losing Sam destroyed you," Sophie explained softly, turning to him with pleading eyes, "I didn't want to get your hopes up for nothing. I didn't even mean to tell my father."

"So that way if you lose the baby you could go through it all alone and leave me in the dark," Nate growled, "So you have to suffer a miscarriage, another miscarriage all alone. Did you even tell William about his baby?"

"I didn't get the chance," Sophie hissed angrily, "My father was in the same room when I found out. I thought he would be happy for me. I think they blamed William for what happened."

"Are you going to be able to…?" Nate began, but his fear made it impossible for him to finish the question.

"The doctors told me I would never be able to have children," the grifter said, her voice soft with nervous fear, "and that if I did end up pregnant there was a chance I and/or the baby wouldn't make it."

"But you still want to take the risk," Nate acknowledged softly. He closed his eyes in pain of the news but he knew her too well. He knew what was coming next.

"Don't make me get rid of this baby," Sophie pleaded, "I don't care what you say. I'm going to have this baby with or without you. I'd rather die giving you a baby then live knowing I had the chance and didn't take it out of fear for my life…"

"Enough!" Nate shouted at her. Then he shrank down in his chair in disgust. It was the first time he yelled at her since this whole thing began. He probably hated himself for it too.

"I'm sorry," he said, placing his head on the steering wheel to think better.

"Please don't make me choose between you and our child," Sophie begged. She knew it was a cheap blow but she had to. She didn't care about the chances. She wasn't going to let somebody else make this decision for her again.

"What do you want to do?" Nate asked softly, "You're not as young as you were when you were first pregnant."

"I know," she said.

"You've already been told what could happen," Nate finished coldly.

"I promise that I'm going to do everything to take it easy," Sophie swore, "I'll take good care of myself I promise."

"So we're keeping the baby?" He asked, his voice filled with concern, excitement and every other emotion you could imagine.

"Yes," she nodded. She had to fight the smile that wanted to appear on her face. She had a feeling she knew what was coming next. She just didn't want to get too excited over it. He could still decide to leave.

"Then I guess we should probably decide on a wedding date, don't you think?" He asked smiling brightly.

Sophie stared at him as if he had three heads, she was sure. She couldn't quite comprehend what just happened. She was pretty certain her fiancé just said okay but he didn't phrase it that way. Then Nate suddenly grabbed her by the cheeks and kissed her. He pulled away before she could even act.

"I don't want our kid growing up thinking we got married because of him… or her," he replied.

And just like that, she was free.


	7. Happy End

Sophie left them traces to make her easier to find. She didn't realize it at first. A single magazine left in the airport chair was hardly note-worthy. But she made the connection immediately and got the idea. She would leave them little breadcrumbs to find her. In her father's sight she would act like the dutiful daughter he thought she was. But the moment he looked away, even for a second, she would betray him with a new crumb on the trail.

Hardison was the first to notice the tiny donations. Apparently Nate had been too busy trying to decipher why she would agree to run away with her abusive father and Parker was convincing Eliot to not murder said father. The hacker was the only one with a steady enough head to figure everything out. Once he did he ended up screaming and hollering at the others until his face turned blue, according to Nate. The mastermind created a plan and they followed the grifter everywhere. That was how they all ended up back in Portland and ready for business.

Nate didn't tell her all of the details but he told her enough. Sophie knew he had been a mess. The fact that he called the team instead of just going off and doing it himself, that was progress. Eliot and Parker were far better equipped for a rescue mission and Hardison had the ability to track anybody. She knew she was in good hands the moment Nate told her they were there. Sure she was completely bewildered that he would endanger their lives so easily but that was mostly because she knew what her father was capable of and they didn't.

%%%%%%%%

Sophie awoke in a slight panic. She bolted up on the couch and stared. She was home. She was back in Portland, safely away from harm. She relaxed back into place without a comment. Then she realized Nate was sitting by her head, staring at her the whole time.

He put his hand on her head and brushed his thumb lightly.

"I'm here," he said.

She smiled and nodded, tears instantly filling her eyes at the happiness within. She reached out towards her mastermind and he gladly kissed her outstretched hand. Then his big, blue eyes grew wide and pulled back to reach into his pocket. Before the grifter could even dare to question him, he pulled out a very familiar diamond ring.

"You dropped this," he winked, placing it onto her finger with a bright smile of his own.

The grifter pulled him into a kiss before he could even think about getting away. It didn't take long for the mastermind to respond. His hand found its way to her stomach and his thumb began to rub in anticipation.

"You know," he said, breaking away just enough to gain the grifter's attention, "You're still going to have to take a visit to the hospital to make sure that baby of ours is okay. You're not going to persuade me otherwise."

"A girl can try, can't she?" She smiled.

"Oh yes, you can," he said, laughing at the bright smile all over his grifter's face. Then his features fell with worry.

"Are you alright?" He asked, "You look happy but…"

"I'm very happy," she replied with a vigorous nod of her head, "Very, very happy."

"Good," he sighed in relief.

"Are you mad at me?" She asked suddenly, her voice turning fearful quite suddenly, "I know I should have told you about him, but I honestly thought he wouldn't find me."

"I'm not mad," he shook his head in shock of her thoughts, "No, I could never be mad about that. You're my fiancé. You're bound to have a few secrets you want to keep hidden."

"Are upset about how I handled it?" She demanded in confusion, "Was I too harsh? Maybe I should have made certain he ended up in prison. He'd like prison. Am I a bad person?"

"Well," Nate said frowning in concentration, "You're the one who stopped me from killing the bastard."

"But you weren't really going to kill him," she dismissed immediately, "If you were I wouldn't have been able to stop you."

"No, Soph," he shook his head, "You're the only reason I didn't kill him. You're also the only reason Parker, Hardison and Eliot aren't going to kill him. That makes you a very honorable person in my book. He deserves so much worse than what you've given him."

"Are you saying that because he hurt me throughout my childhood or because he turned me into a grifter?"

Nate stared at her as if she was crazy. He took her hand in his and gently kissed it, his eyes falling to his action. Then he looked up and his eyes were suddenly red and full of emotion.

"Is it bad if it's both?" He asked.

She gently ran her hand through his hair, relishing in the soft sigh that escaped his lips at her touch. She watched as the relief filtered through his features. Her heart ached at what he must have suffered through during the whole ordeal. But the way his eyes looked at her like she was the greatest art ever made, that made everything she went through completely worth it.

"If you change the past, Nate," she said, her voice serious and full of purpose, "You will never know what you've lost in return."

"Well," Nate smiled at her fantastic answer, taking her hand into his own and kissing it gently, "I don't want to lose you so I guess I'll just have to deal with the past you've been dealt."

"And remind me of the fantastic future ahead of us, of course," she laughed.

"You know I will never hurt our child, right?" He asked suddenly, his voice sounding almost fearful.

"Of course you won't," she stared at him in shock of the idea, "I know you and I remember all of your stories about Sam. I know you won't hurt this baby like my father hurt me that's why I'm insisting on having our baby. I know he or she will be well taken care of. The risk is worth it because of you."

"Okay, okay," he giggled at her passionate plea, "I get it. I just wanted to make sure you were aware."

Sophie smiled at his concern for her. She watched as he kissed her hand again and jumped to his feet. He went towards the kitchen and immediately started their meal. He was chopping away before he spoke again.

"At least I know you and I both had troubles with our fathers. I just wished yours actually cared about you."

"I'm sure he did in his own way," she mused, "At least that's what I want to think about him. I don't remember much about my mother but I'm pretty certain it was with her death that he stopped loving me. He used to always tell me how much I look like my mother."

Silence lapsed between them as they each became absorbed in their thoughts. Sophie reflected on the thoughts that had been plaguing her mind since the whole thing began. She thought about the danger her baby was so close to. She even thought about the pain she must have put Nate through. She should have told them about her father a long time ago. Oh well, the past was done.

"I was thinking," Nate said suddenly appearing right in front of her with an amazing plate of food, "about what you said about avoiding the wedding."

"That was ages ago," she sighed, "I had only just found out I was pregnant and feeling particularly panicked. You can't hold that against me."

"I'm not trying to avoid the wedding," he said, "I'm trying to figure out when to get married. We've known each other for a very long time, Soph. I want to make sure we have it on a day that is perfect for us and I can't decide when. That's what has been taking me so long."

Sophie blinked at the abrupt honesty. Apparently she wasn't the only one thinking about wrong-doings in the past.

"I just want you to be happy," he finally decided, "You deserve to be happy."

"It's about time you learned how to talk to people," she joked to ease the emotional tension, "How did that happen?"

"I met a girl," he laughed, "She promised she'd marry me. Figured I should learn how to behave myself while I still had the chance."

"I'm glad you decided to do the job for me," she laughed right on with him. Then she placed her hand on his cheek and rubbed her thumb along it. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"Marry me," he proposed softly, "In Damascus."

"Damascus?" She smirked at the proposal, "Where we first met? When did you get so sentimental?"

"Why not?" He asked, "I'm competing with the biggest romantic on the planet."

"Where did you marry Maggie?" She questioned softly, combing her fingers through his hair in thought.

"L.A.," He answered in confusion almost automatically, "We had her whole family over there. Even my parents were there. I had to tell my dad to behave but it was alright. Why?"

"Why in L.A.?"

"Because that was where we…" he stopped suddenly and stared at her in complete shock, "It was where we met."

"And where you fell in love," she nodded, "So, we should do something similar. Let's get married in Boston. Unless you fell in love with me somewhere else."

"Venice," he replied with a smile, "I fell in love with you in Venice."

Sophie laughed and nodded her head in defeat.

"Me too," she said.

"Okay, Venice it is."

**A/N:** _Thank you guys for reading and I hope you enjoyed reading it._

**A/N II:** _Story Prompt: a Nate/Sophie story set to the song Kiss It All Better by He Is We, please. Bonus if Moreau is involved. The team would be awesome as well. _


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